


A Welcome Back to the Home He Left Behind

by Failed_to_Deanon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 183,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Failed_to_Deanon/pseuds/Failed_to_Deanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: By his father's madness, he became king. In defeating Robert, he was victorious. The home he left wasn't the home he returned to. A story about Rhaegar, family, and truly returning home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All things recognizable are property of G.R.R. Martin, David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, & company, & the asoiaf wiki.
> 
> I hope readers enjoy this work.

As shocked as people in Kings Landing were to see Rhaegar and his party returned, nothing shocked him more than to see Kings Landing so changed. Everything around him, though standing, looked tattered, frayed, and aged. Rhaegar felt no different. Still, he knew it was his duty, as king, to set things right. A small cry from behind him rang out and he turned to see his Jon's nurse try to hush the dark-haired babe in her hands. Rhaegar let out a small smile; yes, his small party, including the remains of his loyal Kingsguard, Sers Arthur, Gerold Hightower, and Oswell Whent, returned home. What was broken would be made whole again.

His thoughts turned back to the raven he received shortly after his victory over Robert at the Trident; "dark wings, dark words" indeed. The note from his wife began, "My Lord Husband", not "My Dearest Rhaegar"; then again, it hadn't been "My Dearest Rhaegar" since Harrenhal. Though he understood it, her formality pained him. Just then, Jon let out another cry; aye, he understood. Something else he needed to fix.

It had been the rest of the brief note that shocked him: "The King is dead. Your father often said fire cannot burn a dragon. Your father had been no dragon. Long live the King. If it pleases you my lord, return to Kings Landing at your earliest convenience. Now that you are victorious the city needs your presence. Your lady wife and Queen, Elia of House Targaryen".

His father was dead, he was king, and the usually gentle Elia could not find it in her to be kind about Aerys' passing. He hadn't wanted to imagine what transpired between Elia and Aerys for such a thing to happen. He had been far too distracted with making peace with the remaining factions lead by Lord Stark and Lord Arryn to try and understand what the rest of the note meant until Maester Pycelle met the returning party at the gates of the Red Keep.

The old man, like the rest of Kings Landing, looked tired. The maester was relived to see him. His voice was kind, but, filled with pity. The maester explained that the Queen, the children, and Ser Jaime were in the throne room. As the party walked towards the throne room Maester Pycelle relayed the entire sorry tale to the silent and horrified group.

He explained, though it was not surprising, that the king had been obsessively secretive, the days leading up to his death. Since the war began, many within the Red Keep had been subjected to the Kings unpredictable behavior and rage; as such, everyone took to avoiding the king unless summoned. The day he died, the King forbade all, even Ser Jaime Lannister, from entering his chambers. The king had been snappish and volatile for some time; no one voiced any objections.

That night the King had not made an appearance at the evening meal. The maester explained the former Princess, now Queen, and Ser Jaime came to retrieve him so that they, together, could perhaps convince the King to eat. When they reached outside the locked chambers anguished cries were heard and they smelled the oddest stench. Ser Jaime and a few others were forced to break down the door. The stench was of the Kings burning flesh and the King himself was engulfed in the strangest fire. The maester explained they put the fire out, but the king had been too far burned. The king died next day.

Standing outside the throne room after hearing this, Rhaegar couldn't find his words. His father had truly been mad. Horror, etched into every face around him mirrored how he felt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n #1: There will be references to abuse and violence in this chapter.
> 
> A/n #2: "Alya" according to Wikipedia is the second brightest star is Canis Major and in Arabic means heaven, sky, and loftiness.
> 
> A/n #3: Rhaegar won at the Trident so there was no true siege at Kings Landing. Story assumes the time-frame consisting of Rhaegar and the three members of the Kingsguard leaving for the Tower of Joy, the Rebellion, and his return was about 13 months.
> 
> A/n #4: Viserys is about 7, Rhaenys is about three and a half years old; Aegon is a year old; Jon is 4 months old, & Daenerys is a month old.

In the uncomfortable silence, Rhaegar let out a steadying breath. He knew his father had been especially unwell since Duskendale and steadily worsening, but, to hear what he just had was unexpected and distressing. How had his madness progressed to where his father set himself on fire? What if he hurt someone else rather than himself?

It was then that Rhaegar admitted to himself that he should have taken actions against his father before leaving with Lyanna. Perhaps if he had, many more lives would have been spared.

He shook his head slightly. There will be time mourn his father and even more time to muse on what he could have and should have done later. For now, it was well past time he saw his living family.

Rhaegar recalled when his party was met at the gates the maester informed him that his family had been in the throne room, but that Elia had barred the doors. He couldn't possibly imagine any danger possessed her to do this, now that the war was over. Even less as there was no one around. On the walk through the Keep they saw almost no one, but for a few men who nodded and bowed slightly, but, went back to their business. Still when he first heard Pycelle say it, he was puzzled at this, but, now knowing what he did about the tense atmosphere in the Red Keep, both because of the war and his father, he supposed he understood.

A few moments after the maester knocked on the door to the throne room, Rhaegar heard the faintest sound of voices and someone approaching the door on the other side. Slowly the door creaked open, the barest amount; just enough for someone to see who knocked. Rhaegar tried to get a closer look at who this was, but, Pycelle had stood in his way.

A few moments later, the youngest member of the Kingsguard, his Kingsguard, the fair-haired Ser Jaime Lannister, stepped out from behind the door, quickly and firmly shutting it behind him.

The young knight, on seeing his king and his fellow brothers, smiled broadly.

"Welcome back, Your Grace and my brothers. It is good to see you returned home and well".

Jon let out another cry and Ser Jaime's eyes widened and smile almost slipped, but, he recovered well enough to quip, "It seems I have some someone else to welcome".

Rhaegar motioned for Wylla to bring Jon forward. "Yes, this little one is my youngest son, born four months ago. His name is Jon."

Ser Jaime nodded slightly and quirked an eyebrow, but, took the child into his arms all the same. He asked, "Jon?"

It seemed as if he was expecting Rhaegar to say something more, but, when nothing else was offered, Jaime rushed out, "Ah, of course, named for your good friend and the former Hand, Lord Connington. It is a good name." He examined the child for a few more moments and handed the child back to the nurse.

Rhaegar motioned towards the door. "The Queen is inside?"

"Yes. She is with the princes and princesses, oh, and Ser Darry."

Rhaegar smiling, asked, "Good, good. Wait, I am sorry, did you say 'princesses'? My mother gave birth? I have a sister? How do they fare?"

Ser Jaime shot a sharp look at the maester before returning his gaze to Rhaegar. His expression was sympathetic but, he looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Queen Rhaella named the princess, Daenerys, before she died in the childbed."

Rhaegar almost staggered back, he finally returned home and his mother was gone too. How much more did he have to mourn? The rest of his party was no less shocked; whatever King Aerys had been the Queen had been a good woman, and they felt for their new King. No one should come home to the news that both his parents were dead.

Instead of grief, he spoke in anger. "Why was I not informed about my mother's death? I should have been told; a raven at the very least."

The Maester looked crestfallen, "Since the start of the war King Aerys had been adamant that no one but he, himself, was to have access to ravens. The day after the Queen had been delivered to the hands of the Seven I asked the King if one should sent along to you and he said there was no need for it, as he did it himself. I suppose now it was my folly, but, to question it…"

Rhaegar breathed in deeply. Downcast, he pressed forward, "I see. I do not suppose it matters now. And is the child well, at least?"

Jaime smiled faintly when he answered, "Yes, quite well. All four of the children have been mostly well-behaved and remained healthy. The Queen is relieved at that, with having to care for so many children with so little help."

"Are her ladies not with her? Especially with my mother gone, surely they would be of help with the children? What of Ashara? Certainly, she would stay with my wife."

Jaime glanced quickly at Ser Arthur before continuing, "Ah, you remember Lady Ashara had been sent back to Starfall when it was discovered she was with child. His Grace had preferred that Lady Ashara not return even after then. With the war…The Queen had just sent for her days ago. She will be returning soon."

Arthur interrupted sharply, "Ser Jaime, do you know the identity of the man who is my niece's father?"

Frowning slightly, the knight glanced at Rhaegar, before turning his attention to Arthur. "Was. Lady Alya's father was Brandon Stark."

* * *

Arthur had wanted to laugh; the Starks. It figured that the Starks would be at the center of some other scandal. Outwardly, Arthur sighed. Inwardly, he remembered the story of how the young lord died; he supposed Brandon Stark suffered enough. He wanted to be furious, truly he did, but, no good came from hating the dead. At least his sister would be here soon and he finally discovered who dishonored her. He supposed it could be worse; he could hardly explain to his niece about one day taking a sword to her father.

For his part, Rhaegar flinched when he heard the name. He had been appalled when he learned what his father had done to the young lord and the man's father, but, by then it was far too late to do anything about it.

Rhaegar swallowed thickly, "Yes. Thank you, Sir Jaime. But, where are the rest of the Queen's ladies?"

Wearily, he looked to Rhaegar and continued, "Some weeks before His Grace died, after the death of Queen Rhaella, he dismissed the rest of Queen Elia's ladies. He claimed to have not trusted them. His Grace insisted on not spending money on servants when it could be spent on war, as well. As it was, only a small number of servants were retained and the rest were cast out of the Red Keep. His Grace was adamant that only a few should have access to the royal family when possible. Of those who remained, naturally, they heeded His Grace's wishes; particularly the ladies, they were, ah, distressed, considering…"

Curiously, the young knight paused. Before he continued, he shrugged, "A few girls from the kitchen try to spare some time when they can, but, they have their own duties. The only other women that are willing to come to the Keep anymore are whores; we would probably end up staying with them to prevent their trying to steal something, it defeats the purpose of having them at all. Her Grace claims to have become accustomed to it."

It was a fair enough explanation, and Elia had always been sensible; however, there was something that Ser Jaime said which piqued Rhaegar's curiosity. "You were saying 'considering'. Considering what, Ser Jaime?"

Jaime shot another quick look at the Maester. "Maester Pycelle has informed Your Grace of the manner of His Grace's death? Had he said anything about His Grace's demeanor?"

Rhaegar suspected there was far more than what the maester told him. "Maester Pycelle informed me that my father had been unpredictable and prone to outbursts."

Jaime glanced briefly at his 'brothers'. He paused as if to give himself time to gather his thoughts.

"Though it decreased since His Grace had started spending time alone in his chambers, however, from the time that Your Grace left for the Tower of Joy, there had been frequent instances where His Grace had been, ah, unkind to the Queen".

At this, Rhaegar felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "In what way had he been unkind to my wife?"

To Rhaegar, the young knight looked as if though he would have preferred to set sail for Valyria rather than be here recounting this. "It was rare in the beginning, but, still he would physically accost her at times. It became more frequent with the passing of the Queen, though he would not quite accost her in the same manner he used to Queen Rhaella. He also required her presence every time he would punish others so that 'she may observe how he would deal with traitors and the disobedient, no matter who they were'. On one occasion he ordered servants to bring the Prince Viserys and Princess Rhaenys to watch, as well."

Though he phrased it as well as he could, the knight's meaning was perfectly clear. Rhaegar closed his eyes and sighed. Worse and worse, Rhaegar thought; though this explained Elia's lack of mourning for his father. He could hardly blame her. He was angry himself; his wife, his brother, his daughter…It seemed very few were spared father's madness, no matter who they were, nor did it matter how innocent or young.

Rhaegar wondered what else he would learn about what occurred while he was away. A welcome home, indeed. He supposed it could not possibly get worse. Forewarned is forearmed, he mused. Resignedly, he asked, "When did all of this start?"

Jaime ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He frowned slightly and did not quite meet Rhaegar's eyes. "The day Brandon Stark came to King Landing having accused you of taking his sister.

No one could find anything to say after that.

* * *

When no one said anything, Jaime moved to open the door. "Ah, well. Let us go inside. I daresay they will be happy to see you all returned. We have talked here for far too long as it is."

Silently, the group followed as Jaime led them into the throne room. For the most part the room looked unchanged; though it looked it looked just as deserted as the rest of the Keep had. In fact, save for the small group nearest the Iron Throne, it was deserted.

Rhaegar, nor his party moved much further into the room from the door. They stood there, just watching. Rhaegar was rather shocked to see his wife. She had not appeared to be any different: still dark haired and exotic, still with a small build, but, she looked well, quite well. No, what shocked him was that his wife was dressed in the red and black of Targaryen colors. He supposed Aerys had never liked it when she dressed in the Dornish fashion or Martell colors. He wondered at this now, knowing the admittedly deserved, distaste she held for his father. Still, she looked every bit a Dragon's bride. He recalled she did not have many ladies with her so she must have picked the dress herself; he wondered what she meant by it.

She sat on a plain, wooden chair just below the Iron Throne with a child in her lap, quietly speaking to the wizened old man, who could only be Ser Darry, who was similarly seated and had a child in his lap. The pair seemingly took no notice of the silent party standing at the door; instead their focus remained on the children in their hands and the pair of children standing nearest the largest dragon skull, which Rhaegar remembered to be that of Balerion. The youngest of the pair, a girl with a black cat at her feet, poked and prodded at the skull with one hand. The girl's other hand was held by a young boy, a few years older, who prattled disjointedly about the history of the dragon, while Elia interjected here or there.

Rhaegar in spite of himself smiled at this, Viserys and his stories. Rhaegar vaguely remembered the boy enjoyed listening to their mother as she regaled him with the stories; he always liked the ones of dragons and battles best. With a jolt Rhaegar realized he could not remember the last time he told his brother or daughter a story and now it was Viserys, still a child himself, telling or rather, trying to tell his daughter about dragons, not him. Rhaegar broke out his reverie when Ser Jaime let out a rather loud cough. The cough had attracted the attention of the other group.

Elia looked over and seeing the party gathered near the door, rose from her seat, shifting the child in her hands. Ser Darry also rose though it appeared that it took some additional effort. Rhaegar decided then the old man had done his duty to his family and the children would need someone else to look after them. Jaime walked over to take the child from the old man's hands. The child went peacefully enough. Rhaegar could see that the child was fair-haired, but with the way the child was bundled unless he got closer he would not be able to tell if that was Aegon or Daenerys. Once the child was settled, Elia turned to the other children. She knelt down and spoke to the pair in her soft voice. "Come Viserys, Rhaenys. Look who Ser Jaime brought to see us". She straightened again and approached the waiting party while the old knight and two children trailed behind her.

Once she came and stood in front of him, Rhaegar found that he could not find anything to say. She leveled a steady look at her husband; she said, "Welcome home, my lord husband. Congratulations on your victory". Her tone was mild and she had a small smile on her face, but, he heard her tone and knew just then that it held little affection. She presented the child she was holding and Rhaegar smiled taking the child into his arms. He looked into the eyes which curiously stared back at him; they were exactly like his own. His son; it felt wonderful to hold his son, his Aegon, again. Elia quickly turned to the Kingsguard and welcomed them, as well.

Rhaegar reveled in the feeling of home until he saw as his wife's gaze fell on the sole woman of his party; the one holding the baby. His wife's eyes widened as if in understanding; she nodded to the other woman though she said nothing. She looked down and let out a shaky breath. When she looked up, she graced Rhaegar with an unreadable look. Clearly she had not been prepared to say anything about Jon just yet; not in front of anyone.

She smiled then, though it was almost as if in apology, "It is good to see you all. I only wish that I had been able to prepare a more adequate welcome, though we will have a feast tonight, to celebrate your return."

She moved so Rhaegar could see Viserys and Rhaenys properly, though Rhaenys having seen the group tried to bury herself into her mother's skirts. Elia gestured to Viserys first and Viserys was happy enough to see his brother who he quickly ran to give a hug and voiced a quick, "Welcome home". Rhaegar nor his party had been prepared for Viserys to point to Jon and question, "Who is that Rhaegar?"

"Ah, that is your nephew, Jon." Viserys looked back at Elia as if for confirmation, his brow furrowing in confusion. She smiled faintly and nodded, while Ser Jaime interjected rather hastily, "I am sure, my Prince, he and Prince Aegon would be a good audience for stories you can tell them." The child, not picking up the knight's anxious tone, visibly brightened at the prospect and turned his attention to the other knights to ask for stories about some of the battles they had been in; he needed new stories to tell now. The young boy was pleased when Ser Barristan, who had been a part of a few battles, chimed in to say he would share some tales later. Rhaegar saw the Maester and Ser Darry visibly relax while he observed his wife looking gratefully at the knight, who smiled back softly.

Elia then turned slightly to Rhaenys hoping to coax Rhaenys from out behind her. "Rhaenys, my darling, say hello to your father."

While the young girl looked over at the group, Rhaegar handed Aegon over to the Maester to step forward and fall to one knee. "Rhaenys, come to your father, sweetling. I have missed you."

What he had not expected was for her to let out a whimper of distress. Rhaegar froze as watched as his daughter turned her head and tried to bury herself further into her mother's side. His daughter seemed to fear him and he did not know what to do or what to say. He'd been gone for only for a year and some months; certainly she could not have forgotten him. Why would she shy away from him? Surely, she did not fear him? How could this even happen?

Rhaegar and his Kingsguard looked on in horror as Elia tried to comfort the child. It wasn't until Viserys moved to clutch the girls hand tight and whispered the words, "'Nys, This is your Papa, not my Father. He is nice. Father is gone now. His bones are in that box now". As comprehension dawned on the adults, Rhaegar inwardly cursed himself, his father, and their Targaryen features, while his wife looked at him with a look that could be only described as pity. His daughter feared him because he resembled his father. He could not begin to understand how to remedy this.

While Rhaenys began to calm Ser Darry walked up to the child and pulled her back to him; away from the group. Rhaegar and his party traded concerned looks as they remembered just what Ser Jaime told them about Aerys had done with Rhaenys and Viserys. It was equally troubling to have heard Viserys talking so calmly about the way Aerys had acted and about the dead, at his young age.

Elia frowned deeply. She turned to Viserys who seemed to feel her gaze on him and he turned to her with a rather guilty look on his face. "Thank you for calming her, Viserys." The boy's face relaxed into an almost pleased expression until Elia continued in a lower voice, "But, just how is it that you knew where your father's bones are?"

Viserys pouted and looked down. With no response forthcoming, Elia pressed further. "Viserys." The boy looked back up and took Elia's hand. In a low voice, "I saw the box."

"How is that possible? When? After I asked you not to, you still went into your father's chambers?" The last was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes; two nights ago. Some of the men ordered to clean out Father's room were talking to the servants in the kitchen about it and I just wanted to look. I snuck out of the kitchen to see. I am sorry."

"You disobeyed me." The boy nodded but kept his head down. "You know what that means?" The boy nodded again, "No pudding tonight". It clearly was a phrase the boy had been familiar with. Elia tilted the boy's chin up with her fingers, "A little curiosity is fine, however, sneaking about alone was very dangerous. We have spoken about this before. Some of the rooms within the Keep are still not safe. I am glad that you tried to calm Rhaenys, but, be assured, we will speak of this later."

Viserys looked relieved when nothing else was to be said on the matter for now, especially in front of his older brother and his knights. The group of four who remained at the Keep shared look of frustration. Now it was clearer to Rhaegar why Elia had required the door barred; it's easy to keep potential threats away and much easier to keep an eye on wayward children. King's Landing was no place for too curious, royal children to have free reign to do as they liked; certainly not anymore.

Elia took breath and motioned for Jaime, who was still holding the other child, to step closer. "My lord, allow me to introduce to you your sister, Princess Danaerys, born a moon's turn ago".

Rhaegar mused he had taken a child into his hands for the third time today. It would be exciting to have a sister; though he supposed, given their difference in age and with both of their parents dead it would be more like having a daughter again. He turned to show the rest of the party the new princess. Once he turned back to his wife he could see an almost daring look on her face.

"May I hold him?" Elia gestured to Jon. Rhaegar acquiesced though he was clearly nervous. Wylla stepped forward to hand the child to the Queen. His wife examined his child, silently taking in his features for a few moments. She looked up at Rhaegar, her gaze steady, "Jon Targaryen?" The atmosphere grew tense.

"I thought it would be best under circumstances."

She seemed to shrug it off, though her eyes definitely said they would be talking about it later. She, then, grinned wryly, "Lord Connington will be pleased." Ser Jaime choked back a laugh.

"I suppose this means Viserys will have to get his own chambers." A small, hopeful smile bloomed on Viserys' face.

Rhaegar looked at his wife, his expression a mix of hope and confusion. She looked back, steadily. "Habits of snooping aside, Viserys is generally well behaved and far too old to be kept in the nursery. The nursery is large, but, not that large to hold all five children."

This time it was Rhaegar and the knights who remained at the Tower of Joy who shared significant looks. They had known Rhaegar been prepared to argue with Elia to let Jon remain with him; for him not to be sent up North with his uncle. They had not prepared for this.

She saw their looks, "Does his mother insist otherwise?" No one thought to questioned why the Queen refused mention Lyanna by name. Ser Arthur quietly stated, "She died in the birthing bed."

Elia nodded. "I suppose the matter is settled, then." Elia handed Jon back to Wylla.

"Now that we have been introduced, I suppose you Sers, would welcome a bath or are tired and in need of some rest. Ser Jaime, will you see to the arrangements and to their comfort?" The young knight nodded and handed Daenerys to the Maester, made his way out of the throne room with the rest of the Kingsguard following in is wake.

She turned to Ser Darry and the Maester, "Will you take the children and the nurse to the nursery? Viserys, will you go with them? We will pick out chambers for you later, before the evening meal. His Grace and I have a few things to discuss privately." They nodded and quickly left.

Rhaegar was finally alone with his wife. He was rather relieved something had gone well for him on this day. He had thought it would take some more effort to convince his wife to let his son stay with them. True, he was king and he could force the issue, but, certainly this was easier if she was willing.

"I am delighted that you understand. It is a relief that you do not dislike the child. It is a comfort to me that you would be willing to raise him amongst our own children."

His wife looked at him dispassionately; her voice was steady, her tone matter-of-fact, "He is your son, is he not? Where else would he be? Who better for the task than his father's wife? Many wives would be less thrilled at the prospect of raising their husband's children by other women, but, he is yours, the boy's mother is dead, and he is young enough to where he needs a mother. As of now the children have seen him; it would be confusing for them now if Jon was sent elsewhere."

She paused to take a breath and Rhaegar did not have a chance to speak before she continued. "It would also be better for peace negotiations with Lord Stark if he sees his nephew would be well taken care of. True, Lord Stark is known to be honorable, but, I am not sure how he would react to taking Jon himself. This is better for everyone."

"What do you mean? Jon is Lord Stark's nephew. Certainly he would care for Jon."

Elia did not seem impressed by this. Though her tone remained unchanged, the look on her face reminded Rhaegar uncomfortably of her brother, Oberyn, the Red Viper. "The boy belongs to his sister, but, he is also yours. You forget while you ran off with Lyanna, she was betrothed to his best friend. He and Robert Baratheon were as close as brothers. Robert died at your hands. Your father killed Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon. I know; I was here and I saw as it happened. They went to war against us. His men died trying to get Lyanna Stark back and to avenge the deaths of the others. Even if he bears no ill will towards the child, I dare say, many others might blame the child for circumstances which caused him to be born and the events which came before and what came after. Rest assured, I will not. The child would be better served remaining here, with us."

Rhaegar could not find his voice as his wife continued on, "As to disliking the child, why would I? The child has done me no wrong." With that, she turned and left Rhaegar alone with his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Rhaegar stood alone in the throne room for some time. In fact, he had not even moved since his wife left. He found himself unable to do anything but consider Elia's words. Her last words he repeated aloud, "The child has done me no wrong". He recalled the stress she put on the word "child". _If the child was not who was wrong, then who?_ He sighed when his mind supplied, "You".

He was grateful that she had not been angry about Jon, but, in her tirade she had not said why she was angry at him. What he did know is that she was angry at him for something he needed to deliberate on.

Even though she was not most women, he still expected his wife to be less than enthused about the child. He returned from a war with a child not hers. Many men in Westeros have had children with women they are not married to; and if they happened to be married when this happened, it is understandable their wives would not be pleased.

He acknowledged he could see where Elia believed he wronged her. He expected some of her ire; truly, he did. What he hadn't expected was for her to be visibly angry at him and it had very little to do with Jon.

He considered his wife and it rather shamed him to think he never did think about her as often as he should have. Elia had always been level headed, kind, and of a good temperament. He considered himself rather fortunate her temper was more like her brother Prince Doran's rather than Prince Oberyn's. While she would not be like her mother a ruling princess of Dorne in her own right, nor was she exceptionally healthy, Elia had never been spiritless. She rarely had been angry and he admitted to himself he had never truly given her a reason to be angry; well, until that tourney at Harranhal, at least.

Even in the days after he crowned Lyanna, Queen of Love and Beauty, though her silence spoke volumes, Elia had never become visibly angry with him. She never shouted at him or went out of her way to be unkind, though, for a long time after that tourney she treated him with a distant sort of civility he hadn't experienced from her since the first days they began to know each other. Still, she never spoke badly to him though his mother and Ashara had been furious enough on her behalf.

Thinking back on it, he had not meant the gesture to be unkind to his wife and he never meant it as a gesture of love for another woman. He simply did it to honor Lyanna Stark who he discovered to be the Knight of the Laughing Tree; nothing more than that. Elia had been from Dorne and as such many of their ways are different from those in the rest of Westeros; especially where paramours and natural children are concerned. Yet, Lyanna had not been his paramour and this was not Dorne. Elia could never be replaced his heart or at his side, even if he gave roses to another woman. She should have understood that it meant nothing more than a courtly gesture. Of course, once he saw that Elia had not taken it well, he had explained and apologized. It was different in King's Landing and he understood that. After a while, she had forgiven him. Once Aegon was born the events of the tourney had been firmly put behind them.

When he left with Lyanna, he had not meant for all this to happen; not any of it. Once the maesters informed him Elia would no longer be able to carry another child he knew he needed someone else to help him fulfill the prophecy of the Prince that was Promised. He had also come to know Lyanna had not wanted to be wedded to Lord Robert. It seemed like such a simple solution then. He had not meant taking Lyanna as a gesture of love. It was true he and Lyanna got along well enough and he admired her and she him; yet, he felt no love for her then and he did not feel any now.

He simply needed someone to give him his third child and she had not wanted to be married to the man her father had chosen for her. Lyanna described her father, Lord Rickard, as having Southron ambitions, which was why he chose Lord Robert for her as a husband. Still, they believed they could bring Lord Rickard around to reason. He still had intended to marry Lyanna and make her his second wife. It would have been the right thing to do even if marrying more than one wife fell out of practice for the Targaryens long ago. Who would choose to have a lord as their good-son, when their daughter would be a Queen and the mother of a prince? He knew Elia and Lyanna would have become friends, given the time. Once everyone realized this was best solution for everyone the scandal would have died down.

Still, neither Lyanna nor he had expected the situation to escalate so badly. He had not known Brandon Stark would come to Kings Landing to challenge him because he and Lyanna went away together. In no way had he expected it. Lyanna had informed him her brother Ned knew she was unhappy in that relationship with Robert. He hadn't known Lord Brandon did not know this as well. Nor had he expected Brandon's temper would cause him to come to Kings Landing. He certainly had not expected his father's madness to manifest to where he would kill the young lord, his father, and Jon Arryn's heir.

Unfortunately he had been at the Tower of Joy when it happened. Once he learned of it, there was nothing he could have done. By then, Jon Arryn called for the banners of the Baratheon and Stark men on behalf of his wards, and it were far too late; war had begun. With Lord Tywin and his forces choosing to remain neutral until the Battle at the Trident and the sheer number of the joint force of the Baratheons, Starks, Arryn, and Tully families and their bannermen, even if the Targaryen forces did have the support of the Dornish and the families of the Reach there was little he could do until the fighting was finished. He had a duty to finish and win the war before fixing anything, if he could.

He shook himself out of those thoughts. Ruminating on Lyanna, the Starks, and the war would not help him understand Elia's current anger. He returned from and his wife was clearly angry at him and this time it had very little to do with that Tourney and not Jon, not exactly, perhaps not even Lyanna. He admitted to himself that they were probably a part of it, but, that could not be all of it. He supposed it had to do with his father, or more likely, what he failed to do for her where his father was concerned. There had been no time to return to King's Landing nor had he been in any position to move his family; even if his father would be willing, which knowing his father, he would not have been.

He thought Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon would be safe from the war in King's Landing. His mother was here as well. It was why he left them here. The Gold Cloaks of the City Watch were present and Ser Jaime was present as well, though young, was a fine swordsman. There were plenty of servants around as well; good men and women. He supposed still Elia had not entirely been untouched by war. Her uncle, Prince Lewyn had died at the Trident. Her beloved uncle had died at the battle where her husband was victorious. It probably weighed on her mind; it did on his. Still, he personally had not struck down the prince; the prince had been a casualty of war. That was nothing she could fault him for.

So, it came back to Aerys again. He admitted to himself that he knew his father had been unwell since the Defiance at Duskendale, and how his father acted towards his mother. Although unwell was putting it mildly. He should have done something to curb his father and he had wanted to. He knew something had to be done. He even planned on removing his father as King. Yes, his father had not been particularly well, but, he had not thought the situation was so bad to where he could not have fulfilled the prophecy before resolving the issues with his father.

He freely admitted his father had been monstrous and he should have done something about his father sooner. It was bad enough his father's unchecked madness allowed him kill men for little to no reason, but, his father did it in front of others without thought of consequences. That his father was cruel enough to kill men in horrific ways in front his wife, child, and young brother; he had never expected it. He never suspected his father's madness or thirst for violence would turn towards Elia or the children. He could not have imagined that at all. His father rarely had anything to do with Elia or the children. Of course, before the war Viserys had been sheltered from his father's madness and violence as much as possible and now he was exposed to and along side his daughter. It affected his daughter so much to where she feared the very sight of him.

Yes, he could see why his wife was furious at him. Now because he had not been in King's Landing to stop his father, and she blamed him for it. However, there was no way he could undo the damage. He could try to fix it, but, for all the prayers he could make to the Seven to provide wisdom, he could not understand how to. Still, there had to be a way; especially with Lyanna no longer the issue and his father gone. His wife loved him still, he was sure of it. If she had not, she would not be angry, he was sure. She was Rhaegar's wife, the mother of his children, and now with now his father dead, his queen. He was here now. His daughter would learn to not fear him. He would not be a virtual stranger to his son and brother. He vowed to himself that he would try to fix this with his wife and family. He needed to fix this.

* * *

Elia shut the door behind her sharply, her thoughts furious and her temper elevated, as she stormed to her chambers. She never thought she would ever grateful for the Red Keep being so empty. She had planned on going to the nursery to see about the children or to the kitchens to check on the progress for the feast tonight, but, after what Rhaegar said she did not want anyone to see her just yet. She needed to be alone for a few moments to sort out her feelings.

She was relieved Rhaegar was alive, whole, and returned to her. Ever since he left she had been fearful for him. Truly, she was glad he was home, yet, she could not stand to be near him at that moment. He came back to King's Landing from that senseless war after being away for more than a year to find the city in disrepair, both of his parents dead, an orphaned sister, his daughter fearful of him and of all the things he could say, he could have said: how much he missed her, how delighted he was to be home again, how he was happy to see them all again, he heard what happened while he was gone and he was sorry for it; no, he said he was glad she did not blame his child for existing.

That he even considered the possibility of her being cruel a child is unfathomable. It was as if he believed her to be a woman of low ideals or that she would behave like some harridan at the very sight of the child. Oh, she knew most other women would find it horrid to find their husband's bringing their natural children to see them. While she still loves him, she is angry; there is no question of it, though the child is not why. While it did hurt that Jon is a reality, but, she was a Martell: their words are "Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken". Certainly her husband knew her enough to know she was strong enough to not begrudge a motherless child a home with the boy's father. He should know her better than that.

She let out a humorless laugh. Of course Rhaegar hadn't known it. He had not known her at all; or rather, he never tried to. That is what hurt the most. Oh, he knew well enough she was his loyal wife, daughter-in-law to his dear mother and that monster of a father, she was the soft-spoken mother of his children, and the kind good-sister to Viserys; but, clearly he had not known her to be more than that. She supposed it was because she had not meant much to him. Well, no, she knew what she had been to her: a vessel for him to fulfill that odious prophecy. If she had been anything more to him, once he could no longer use her for that he would have never all but abandoned her and their children, to take Lyanna, who for all her uniqueness was little older than a child, to fulfill it.

Once Elia made it to her chambers she shut the door behind her and sat down heavily. She could not help laughing, though these laughs were edged with hysteria. Her husband who perhaps because of the love he bore that girl brought the potential for disaster over their heads by: eloping with the daughter and betrothed of a high lord; leaving her, their children, his mother, and his young brother with that beast, Aerys; he and Aerys were ultimately responsible for starting the war which tore Westeros apart; and he expected seeing that poor, living child is the cruelest reality she has faced? What else could she do but laugh?

When she first married Rhaegar she knew what was said about in whispers and her behind her back. 'Oh, certainly the Crown Prince deserves someone more beautiful, someone with better health, and someone better...' Aerys told her often enough the only reason why he even bothered allowing her to marry Rhaegar was because she, with her tainted Dornish blood, was the closest he could get to a girl with Targaryen ancestry. Rhaegar was good to her, she grew to love him, and they had two beautiful children together.

At Harrenhal when he passed her by, crowning Lyanna, Queen of Love and Beauty, in front of all those lords and ladies the memories of those words and slights came back to her. Oh, he explained and apologized and of course she forgave him. Then despite her ill health after Aegon's birth, they were happy; or at least she was. By then she had hoped he grew to love her as well, even if his nature and role as Crown Prince to Aerys would not allow him to show it.

She had given him his son and his heir and still Rhaegar had been obsessed with that prophecy. Most men would be thrilled to have a son, a healthy heir, and even that was not enough for him because "the dragon needed three heads". He spit on his vows to her because of some words. She had not even believed in the prophecy as he did and he knew it. He had known and he did not care when he went and tried to fulfill it by using someone else.

And the person he chose; it had never occurred to him what that choice would mean for the girl, for him, for their children, for her. When he left with Lyanna the whispers, the cruel japes, and the sidelong looks returned. Only now, her husband showed all of Westeros that she wasn't good enough. The day Brandon Stark was killed, Aerys, always so quick with barbs, slapped her face and said, "This was your fault. If you hadn't been so weak, so useless, Rhaegar wouldn't have had to run off with that Stark whore".

And now her husband returned from that war which should have never happened and he thanked her for not hating a child as if she would hold the child responsible for what she experienced; as if the child had anything to do with why she was angry at her husband. Clearly, Rhaegar still does not know her.

Elia shook her head. Still he is her husband and she is his wife. She has a duty to him, their children, the rest of his family, and the kingdom of which she is now Queen. Her hurt feelings or Rhaegar's actions or in-actions do not matter; she has far greater concerns. She has a feast and coronation plans to prepare and a war-torn kingdom to help him rebuild.

* * *

Rhaegar's thoughts were interrupted by Ser Jaime entering the throne room.

The knight smiled at him though his eyes seem to dart around, "Your Grace is still here?"

Rhaegar returned his smile, though it was strained, not that the knight was looking at him. "Yes, I was going to go to my chambers, yet, I stayed to think on some things." He paused; Ser Jaime did not need to know what his thoughts were about. His thoughts were his own burden to bear.

"What brings you back here? Certainly you are not here to do your duty to safeguard my person from danger; I just have returned to King's Landing. I can not be in danger just yet; as it is though it will change soon enough, there is hardly anyone here."

The distracted knight said, "No, no Your Grace, your person is completely safe."

Instead of looking at him Jaime kept his eyes on the floor as though he was looking for something. Finally the young man let out an uncharacteristically joyful laugh. He watched as the knight walked over to skull which used to be Meraxes to reach down to pick up a black cat by the scruff. The knight cradling the cat in his arms, now looked at him though his expression uncomfortable, "Prince Viserys said something about the Princess Rhaenys would be more cheery if she had Balerion with her."

Rhaegar almost flinched at the reminder of his daughter shying away from him.

Jaime changed the subject abruptly. "While we are here Your Grace, Her Grace bid me to ask you would be willing to stay in your old chambers as the King's chambers still showed signs of damage due to, ahem, His Grace's accident. The chambers have mostly been fixed, but, it will take a few more days for them to be completely ready."

Feeling relieved at Ser Jaime's offer of a distraction, "What more needs to be done?"

"A wardrobe was broken and needs to be replaced as does one of the bed posts, one wall needs a tapestry to cover up the burn marks, and the smell; it still remains." The younger man looked haunted as he said the last.

This time Rhaegar offered the distraction, "Ser Jaime I wanted to thank you for looking after the Queen and my family. I am glad you were here for them. The children seem very comfortable around you."

Jaime smiled rather softy, "Your Grace entrusted them to my care. It was no great hardship. The Queen had always been kind and did most of the work with Ser Willem. The children were very sweet, though Prince Viserys was always active like most boys his age. Still, I suppose it has to do with Tyrion, my younger brother. Before I was honored by being asked to join the Kingsguard, I would often look after him myself. It was something I was used to."

Rhaegar vaguely remembered Tywin Lannister's third and youngest child. He had been told the child was quick witted "for a dwarf"; though the last would be said out of the Lannister Lord's hearing.

"Yes, quite. I am glad for it. So, Ser Jaime have the rest of the Kingsguard needs been seen to?"

"Of course; they are resting now. Will Your Grace be requiring a bath as well, before the evening meal?"

"Yes. That would be lovely. It has been far too long. And the journey has been far too weary."

Ser Jaime, though he had voiced nothing, his eyes seemed to as ask a question Rhaegar did not feel prepared to answer. Instead the young knight, with cat in hand, started to walk to the door, "I can imagine".

Having taken a few steps he stopped as if another thought had just occurred to him. He turned to Rhaegar, "Has Your Grace…" His voice trailed off and shook his head as if to say 'forget I was intending to say something' though Rhaegar saw as the younger man's eyes fell onto the Iron Throne.

Rhaegar smiled crookedly. "In between all of this: the war and returning; even though the Queen sent me that raven informing me of my father's death I forget that it is indeed mine now." He stopped speaking for a moment. "I suppose now is as good a time as any".

Rhaegar slowly made his way to the imposing Iron Throne; his throne, now. He walked up the dais. He remembered old tales from his youth about the throne. He remembered that many looked at it as though it was almost a sentient being, that it knew who was worthy of sitting on it. Standing in front of it he considered perhaps there was truth to the tales. He remembered his father used to cut himself on it often. He knew all to well his father proved himself unworthy of it. He carefully lowered himself onto the seat, cautiously minding the sharp and jagged edges, reminding himself to not fully lean back on it. He felt the need to close his eyes and release the breath he had been holding.

He opened his eyes and turned to his knight. "How do I look, Ser Jaime?"

"Like a true king, Your Grace."

"I swear Ser Jaime that I will do all in my power to be, to remain, a true king."

If Rhaegar hadn't seen it come and go so quickly he would have believed he imagined Ser Jaime's uncertain look before his face became an expressionless mask. "I would think so, Your Grace."

Because all the things he learned today, he understood Ser Jaime's skepticism. The knight was here to see everything. For all the young man was idealistic, he was no dullard. If a man could abandon his duty to his family and responsibilities to his kingdom, how could he be a king? Still, by saying nothing the knight said it all. He would do his duty to Rhaegar because he was sworn, just as he did for Aerys; even if he no love for them. Rhaegar did not know if he should be relieved or not.

What he did know, Rhaegar would have to earn the trust of his men; just as he would his wife and his children's. He would not fail in this. He could not fail, not again.

* * *

Ser Jaime had said to his brothers in the Kingsguard that the evening meal was to be held in the Great Hall of the Red Keep. A few hours after resting, the knights of the Kingsguard entered the hall together. The place was almost exactly as the place the last time they saw it. The Targaryen banners still hung high, but, the hall was very much empty, just like the rest of the Keep had been when they arrived. Still, there were differences; on the High Table it was Rhaegar who sat in the place reserved for the King and the Queen at his side was Elia. On the King's other side sat Prince Viserys and Princess Rhaenys sat on the other side of the queen. The old Maester and Ser Darry sat on a table laid out just beneath the High Table with spaces enough for the four of them to sit. Wylla was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of the other children. Given the lateness of the hour, the younger children must have been asleep.

The one thing they had not expected was for Ser Jaime to be seated next to the little princess who clung to the lad while shooting fearful glances at her father. Once they fully entered the hall and got nearer to the slightly raised table they heard the Queen murmuring comforting words to the girl with her back to her husband while the knight seemed be trying to coax the younger girl into a conversation and unsuccessfully trying to get the girl to release his arm. The King for his part seemed composed save for the stiffness in his spine as kept his gaze firmly fixed on his younger brother. Prince Viserys evidently happy about having the attention of the brother he idolized, appeared to be waxing poetic about the wonder that his new room and what he think he needed to make the room even more perfect while the king nodded along at the appropriate moments.

The Queen finally looked up at them and smiled rather distractedly, "Sers, I trust your accommodations were sufficient? Please let me know if there is anything you need. I will arrange it for you."

Receiving nods, she continued. "I do hope you will forgive the lack of formality tonight. Lately there have been so few of us..." She trailed off for a moment but rallied, "Please, sit. The food will be brought out shortly."

The group of four for the lack of anything to say took their seats. A few servants entered the room arms laden with trays.

Ser Arthur sat facing the High Table and did not like what he saw. The Queen kept her eyes on her daughter or on her plate. The King, when not facing his brother, kept sneaking glances at Princess Rhaenys and the Queen while it looked as though it took great effort for him to stop frowning. Arthur guessed the Queen and King had tense words when the group left the Throne Room. He'd never what it is like to be married, but, he supposed after spending more than a year apart given the circumstances surrounding Rhaegar's leaving and coming home, the situation between the pair would be tense for some time. He was loyal to Rhaegar; yet, Elia had always been a friend what with Ashara and Elia being close. Now to see the pair of them like this, did not sit right with him. Still, he could not know where to start to help fix this. He doubted they would welcome his interfering.

He tore his eyes away and looked at his own table. Ser Oswell was looking well and joyful while he was truly tucking into his meal. It was just as well; his plate was exceptionally full. Arthur supposed he couldn't fault his 'brother'; food at the Tower not plentiful by any means and the stops they made on the road had little to do with indulging oneself with food. Ser Gerold seemed intent on savoring each bite of the roast on his plate. Ser Barristan looked to be in some deep thought as he picked at his food. Ser Willem and Maester Pycelle were having some sort of conversation about trying to scrounge up more servants now that the King had returned and a little bit about the preparations for the Coronation ceremony.

Just as Arthur was going to start eating, a young boy burst into the hall clutching something. This interruption caused everyone to look up as the servant walked to Maester Pycelle and handed a note to him. The old man dismissed the boy while he scanned the note and he turned his attention to the Queen. "It is a note from Dorne, Your Grace, from Prince Doran. Prince Oberyn will be arriving in King's Landing in less than a fortnight." Seeing her smile, he turned to Arthur, "Lady Ashara and, ah, Lady Alya are riding with him."

Arthur was so happy to hear this news. He would see his sister again after so long and this would be the first time he saw his niece. Once it was discovered Rhaegar left with Lyanna, King Aerys had sent them out to find Rhaegar and if Lyanna had been with him, they were ordered to "guard her". Even though the Tower was in Dorne, Arthur had not been given leave to go to Starfall even for briefest of time. Arthur though the Queen looked elated; he remembered she and Oberyn were close. Amusingly enough, it seemed Prince Viserys was equally delighted as he turned to his good-sister and asked, "Do you think when the Prince arrives he would show me how to fight with a spear?"

Ser Jaime coughed and replied in good humor, "Prince Viserys! I think I should be insulted. Word of Prince Oberyn's coming just arrived and you've already forgot about our sword lessons?"

While Viserys let out a childish laugh, "No Ser Jaime, I like our lessons. I just want to be an excellent warrior like Aemon the Dragonknight!"

Rhaegar looked at Jaime sharply, "How could you let him play with swords? Weapons are not toys for children." Rhaenys buried her head in Jaime's arm while Jaime looked at Rhaegar in shock.

The Queen, for the first time since knights entered looked at her husband, frowning, "It's not but few lessons about proper care of swords and play with a wooden one. My brothers started at that when they were younger than Viserys is now." Turning to the visibly deflated Viserys, "I'm sure my lord is just surprised he wasn't the one to begin teaching you, himself. I am sure my brother will be happy to teach you about using the spear. You'll make a fine warrior one day. Perhaps you can show the King what you learned so far? Would that not be lovely, my Lord?"

Rhaegar collected himself and nodded to his younger brother. "Yes, yes fine. You may learn whatever you wish from Prince Oberyn, but, only when I am present. You understand." The boy agreed readily.

The Maester chimed in, "Prince Viserys has began other lessons as well. He has memorized the history of the House of Targaryen from Aegon the Conqueror forward and some history of House Martell as well."

Rhaegar looked sharply at the Maester. "Since when has he been receiving lessons on heraldries and family histories?"

Ser Willem chimed in, "His Grace insisted on it and there was no reason to discontinue it his learning since he proved to be a diligent student."

Looking at his brother's anxious face, Rhaegar let out a resigned, "I see. I suppose I am far too late to decide plans for you, myself. Do you intend on being on my council by your tenth name-day. as well, hmm?"

Viserys giggled, "May I?"

"We will see. We would prefer you have time to play". The boy pouted slightly, but did not press the issue; he would not be denied pudding the following night as well.

Just then the Maester turned to Rhaegar, "Speaking of councils has Your Grace decided on who is to be your Hand?"

Rhaegar considered the man in front of him for a moment, while the Kingsguard who returned with their king exchanged glances. "He had been forbidden from speaking of it yet, but, once the fighting at the Trident was finished and peace negotiated, I offered the position to Lord Arryn. He has accepted. He will be here shortly with his wife; as will the Lords Stark and Baratheon. He was fairly open to reconciliation and he seems like a sensible sort of man. His assistance in helping us rebuild the kingdom will be considerable."

The Maester looked as though the believed the proposition was absurd while the look on the Queen's face plainly said she was amused. Jaime's thoughts mirrored the Queen's expression. 'Arryn was a good enough choice. The man had been highly regarded. That he accepted peace, speaks highly of his interest in repairing the realm'.

Pycelle spoke again, "But, Your Grace, certainly someone who fought along side our forces would make for a better Hand? Lord Tywin had been hand for twenty years."

Rhaegar responded flatly, "The Office of the Hand needs to be filled by someone with experience of some sort of governance someone with a strong reputation. Lord Mace who supported fully would serve us best in the Reach." The Maester could hardly argue with that. The King briefly looked at Ser Jaime before continuing, "Lord Tywin; his support after the Trident assisted greatly, yet, this is a new era. Someone different; I think."

Jaime could barely hold in his laughter. His father will be in for quite a surprise. Of course, his father tried to back the winner. Unfortunately for him it appears entering the fray late cost him his chance at reaping the rewards. Still his father would not take this lightly.

As if on cue, the Queen spoke, her expression almost wicked, "Come now, my good Maester, I am sure we can honor Lord Tywin in another way. My Lord makes valid points and what's done is done. We must look forward now".

The king nodded. "Enough; there will be time for discussions later. We needn't bore the children with such talk. For now we should finish the meal." Everyone took the hint and turned their attention to their food.

* * *

After the meal three of the knights retired to solar of the Lord Commander. Ser Jaime would join them after he escorted the excited young prince to his new chambers while Ser Arthur was remaining with the King. Gerold Hightower, for his part, was glad to finally sit in his solar again. He would finally sleep in his own bed again. Looking at his 'brothers' he felt a pang of sadness. He remembered Ser Lewyn and Ser Jonathon who had been killed in war. His brothers had been loyal men and good friends and he felt their loss keenly. He would miss their company. Still, as Lord Commander, before long, he would have to speak to the King about picking some men to add replace the losses to their group.

When he noticed the Bull's eyes fall on the empty seat favored by Prince Lewyn, Ser Barristan spoke, "I saw them both fall. The first few nights after, I saw their faces in my sleep. Good men, both of them. I will miss them."

Ser Oswell grunted, "Aye, good men, gone for nothing."

Ser Barristan turned to his 'brother', "Nothing? They died in service of our King."

Ser Oswell looked at him steadily, "They would not have been at war if the Mad King had not burned those Lords. Of course, those lords would not have been in King's Landing waiting to be burnt if the King never took that that Stark girl."

Ser Barristan spoke again astonished, "Come now. He is our King and we have to serve him. Our lot in life is not to question. It is our duty, even if he forgot his in the course of love."

Ser Gerold let out an inelegant laugh, "Madness. Madness is what it was, not love."

Ser Barristan, "What do you mean 'madness'? He would not tear apart his kingdom for something less than love. The King is his father's son, true, but he is not like his father."

Ser Oswell smiled sadly. "Brother, you are a bigger dreamer than Ser Jaime used to be. Surely you do not put stock in the old saying about Targaryen's and coins? Aegon the Conqueror used dragons to burn Kings to death; Baelor the Blessed locked his sisters away. Nay, after what we have seen, what we lived through; even the best of them seem mad in their own way. I pray to the Seven that was the end of his."

Ser Gerold sent Oswell a bland look, before returning his attention to Barristan, "Make no mistake about it, the Stark girl cut a striking figure and there was something there, but if he was in love, it was more the idea of the girl rather than the lady herself; or rather he loved what she was to do for him. Oh, he returned to that Tower full of righteous happiness in his victory at the Trident alright, and though he was mournful when he learned she was dead, but, what he grieved was his plans going awry. The Bull had a faraway look in his eye when he recounted the tale.

_Rhaegar looked away, "I see. She was a good woman. I am so sorry she died; she was so young and so full of fire and promise; so fierce. It truly is a shame." He took a breath, "Tell me, Ser Gerold, how the child, my Visenya?"_

_"Visenya, my Prince?"_

_"Lady Lyanna was to give me a daughter. I was intending to give my daughter the name, Visenya. What better name could there be chosen a Targaryen daughter born of a woman with the spirit of a warrior?"_

_"My Prince, Lady Lyanna gave birth to a boy. He is with the nurse now. Lady Lyanna lived long enough to name him Jon."_

_Rhaegar smiled though his expression was the melancholy one they were used to. "Jon. Of course, the gods saw fit to grant me son and while his mother died. None of this should have happened. Not at all…" He laughed though it sounded hollow, "Let us go see my son."_

Ser Oswell, "You see 'Brother'; it was desire and madness, not love".

Barristan looked rather troubled. "But, certainly she loved him? At Harranhal she wept when he sang and it was no secret she had not favored Lord Robert. Certainly her love was true."

Ser Oswell laughed dully, "She would not be the first maid to believe herself in love with him when he was but a comely prince. She was six and ten when she died. What do they know of love at that age? She was young and hated the lot in life chosen for her. She was just as wolf-blooded as that fool brother of hers. If it was love that drove her, it died quickly enough when the girl found out about her father and brother. And then, she wanted nothing but to go home and it would not have happened no matter how much she cried or pleaded. Our orders were that we guard her and we did, until we no longer had to".

"Whatever drove them, it matter not now. The girl is gone and the son is settled into his father's household. Either way, do not stress yourself overmuch, Brother. As you said, it should not matter to us. We are but members of the Kingsguard. Our duty is to serve and protect our king, not to judge. As it was for Aerys, it should be for Rhaegar. During the meal he the King and Queen spoke of moving forward. We are here, we survived, we move on", Ser Gerold spoke with a sense of finality.

* * *

Elia was seated in her bedroom in front of a vanity brushing her hair. She looked back at her bed where her daughter was sleeping. Her daughter had been disturbingly out of sorts today. The nurse said she'd be fine with the four children, but, Elia worried Rhaenys, who had been acting frightened most of the day would have a terror-filled dream as she had once in a while when Aerys had been alive. The way her daughter was acting at dinner just strengthened her resolve to keep her daughter with her. Lost in her musings she almost did not hear the knock at the door of her sitting-room. She walked out of her bedroom to open the door to find her husband and Ser Arthur on the other side. "Please come in."

Arthur said, "I will stay outside."

Elia stepped aside to let Rhaegar in her chambers though she moved to close the door to her bed-room. Motioning to a cushioned chair she bid her husband to sit. "If you needed me for something you could have summoned me. I would not have refused."

"I am aware. I had a few items I needed to discuss with you. I expect Lord Arryn and his wife Lysa Tully will be here within the fortnight; as will Lord Stark, his wife Catelyn Tully, and Lord Stannis. I need to you to make the arrangements. Of course, I will see what I can do about getting more servants for the Keep to assist you.

"Of course, I will begin to make the arrangements tomorrow."

"One more thing; you saying something about finding a way to honor Lord Tywin; what did you have in mind? A seat on the council for sure, but, he will not accept no mere seat. It is not as though I could release Ser Jaime with his vows."

"Well, I agree we can not make him Hand nor do that. Lord Arryn was a good choice if he holds no enmity towards us. Just inform Lord Tywin the realm needs to know that we intend on moving forward, in unity, and we needed to choose someone else. Master of Coin; I think, and a marriage proposal."

"A marriage proposal for Lord Tywin? Though it has been years since the loss of Lady Joanna, he would still not agree to marriage now."

"I meant for his daughter, Lady Cersei. Years ago my Lady Mother and Lady Joanna intended for me to marry Jaime and Cersei to marry Oberyn; except Lady Joanna died and it fell through. Lord Tywin always believed his daughter was meant to be a princess. She still can be."

"You intend on matching your brother for the girl?"

"Why not? It would bind our families closer together and who else is high enough for the girl? Lord Tyrell's son is far too young; so is Benjen Stark. Hoster Tully is not as high a lord and his heir a mere boy. Can you imagine her with a Frey? Pardoned or not, Lord Stark has his Tully bride; and from what I remember of Cersei and what Ser Jaime says about her, she would be terribly unhappy with Lord Stannis. My brother is a prince; he is also strong, comely, and agreeable enough."

"Your brother would agree?" Elia raised her eyebrow "He will do what I ask of him. The girl is pretty enough. If he does seem reluctant, I will speak to Doran; he would make Oberyn see the sense in it."

"Very well, I will talk to Lord Tywin of the match. Still, I wish to talk to about your brother. I shouldn't have reacted badly about Oberyn coming to King's Landing. I know you were always close to him. Still, we do not know how long he would stay and I don't know if Viserys should be taking lessons from him. Why have Pycelle and Ser Jaime have been teaching him at all? I should have been the one to teach him. I am here to do that now. He only has lived through six name days. He's too young to be playing scholar and at weapons and war."

"And what is to stop you from taking a role in his education? You are his brother, but, the lessons are ones he needed to learn, Rhaegar. If not now, then later; he has to learn them. He's a prince no matter how many name days he has seen. He is far too curious for his own good. Having him distracted was the only thing I could do to stop the questions."

"Questions?"

"There were so many. 'Where you were? Did you really take the girl with you? Why did Mother always cry after coming out of Father's rooms? Why were there bruises on my face? Why did Father burn that man? Why are we at war?' What would you have me do? I would not lie to him. There were so many questions and not many answers. Some truths I knew and not many of them suitable for a boy who had not even seen seven name-days. Would you rather he asks questions of the Maester, Ser Darry, or Ser Jaime; who knows what they would say? Or, would you have preferred him asking your father? Giving the boy distractions was the only choice I had; one of the few you left me with when you left."

"I was the one who had no choice. The prophesy—"

"That again? Prophesies are mere words and we both know words are the wind! But, then again so were our wedding vows!"

"You know it wasn't like that; I had no love for Lyanna."

"Ha! If you had no love for the girl then why take her if all you needed was a vessel for the "third head" of your 'dragon'? Were all the whores in Flee Bottom not available that day? You have no love for her! Are you trying to tell me that or trying to tell yourself? Or did she lose your love when she gave you a "Jon" and not a "Visenya", just as I lost yours when I only gave you two children?"

"That is not true. I love you. You wanted me to return and I returned to you!"

"If you loved me, you would not have left; no matter how many prophesies you came across!"

Just then a noise interrupted their argument. Elia went to check on Rhaenys while Rhaegar trailed behind her. Rhaenys was sitting up with tears rolling down her cheeks and Elia rushed to take the child in her lap brushing her tears while Rhaegar stayed in the door-way.

"My darling; what happened? Did you have a bad dream again?"

"The loud voices scared me, Mama." Elia and Rhaegar looked abashedly at one another.

"It's quite alright, my girl. There will not be any more loud voices. Not anymore."

Rhaegar took this chance to step closer, his daughter's eyes wide, "If we promise that there would be no more loud voices will you sleep." The girl looked unsure.

"Will you not give your Papa a smile, little one?" The little girl turned to her mother who smiled faintly and nodded.

"Now smile for me; will you, my love?" Seeing the girl's watery smile, Rhaegar relaxed.

Elia hugged her daughter once more before laying her down and the pair of them said nothing while they waited for the child to sleep again.

Once they shut the door behind them Elia turned to her husband, "I am tired of having the same arguments again, and the children deserve better from both of us. I do not wish to fight with you anymore, Rhaegar."

"I know you do not believe me, but, I swear one day you know I am sorry for all of it. I meant what I said about us moving forward; together."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: strong language & not so subtle references to incest.

Rhaegar was seated on the Iron Throne; dressed in black with red at the collar of his neck and the sleeves; a simple golden circlet adorned his head. He was having a new crown fashioned in time for the coronation and he could not bring himself to don the one his father used to favor. He smiled ruefully, of all the things to think about on today of all days, the adornments for his head is the last thing he should be focused on. Oberyn and Ashara, along with Ashara's daughter, arrived in King's Landing.

Ser Gerold, the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, dressed in resplendent white, stood to his right. Elia was seated on a gilded chair to his left. She was wearing a red gown with a black broach, in the shape of a dragon, with orange eyes, attached at the shoulder. Today was the happiest he had seen her in a long while. Though she loved her both her brothers, Oberyn was closer to her in age and it was no secret she adored her brother. Ashara was her dearest friend, they were as close as sisters, and they were parted under ugly circumstances.

Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, garbed like his brother, stood on Elia's left, looking no less happy. Arthur loved his sister fiercely and he regarded Oberyn very highly. Rhaegar winced inwardly. He wished he could share their enthusiasm. While he liked Oberyn and Ashara well enough and knew the pair would be eager to his wife and Arthur again, but, he could not delude himself into thinking they would be happy to see him. Oh, he was certain they wouldn't, for Elia and Arthur's sakes, and because he was the King of Westeros, publically berate him, yet, he could not imagine they would be more than civil. He expected nothing untoward, yet, this was the Red Viper and Ashara was hardly shy.

The new servant announcing the group broke his reverie. As they were ushered into the throne room by Ser Jaime Rhaegar and Elia rose. Rhaegar grasped his wife's hand and she turned to him smiling, but, saying nothing. Her expression brightened as she turned her attention to the newly arrived party. The Prince simply nodded his head in greeting, while his eyes bored into Rhaegar's. Rhaegar was pleased to note the absence of visible weaponry on the Prince's person. Ashara curtsied as deeply as having a young girl in her arms allowed and as protocol required; no more than that. The dark-haired little girl said nothing but her eyes looked around curiously.

Rhaegar spoke first, "Welcome, to King's Landing, Brother, Lady Ashara, and Lady Alya. It warms us to see that you are well. I hope your journey proved non-taxing." Oberyn spoke, "The journey was fine, Brother." The tone was as warm as expected. Rhaegar saw Elia's smile slipped a bit and Ser Gerold and Ser Jaime shared a look while their spines stiffened. Rhaegar turned to Ashara who decided to speak first, a simple, "Your Graces" and then she turned her daughter to Rhaegar "Alya, dear, greet Their Graces". The girl obeyed but quickly turned her attention to the dragon skulls still littering the hall.

Elia let go of her husband's hand to step forward to embrace her brother. They spoke in low voices, and something must have been said about Rhaegar because Oberyn glanced at back at him briefly before nodding in agreement to his sister. Oberyn looked disgruntled but resigned. Rhaegar watched as she and Ashara embraced and as Elia cooed over the child, who had the look of a Stark though she had Ashara's eyes.

Arthur, after a simple, "My Prince" directed towards Oberyn, stepped forward to embrace his sister. Arthur turned his delighted attention to his niece. Rhaegar watched as Ashara and Elia discussed how wonderful it was to see each other after so long. Soon enough talking was going rather well, at least until the subject turned to the topic of the children.

Ashara having known Viserys and Rhaenys well, though having not seen them since she was dismissed from King's Landing by Aerys, was curious about how they fared in King's Landing.

Elia was all smiles as she relayed information, "Viserys is taking lessons with the Maester; nothing too strenuous, but, the lad is always curious about Targaryen history. The dear lad always enjoys an audience so Rhaenys went along. She's become very much his shadow. Which reminds me brother, since he heard of your coming, he wishes for you to show him how to use the spear. He is at that age where trying to keep shiny weapons away is nearly impossible." Oberyn glanced amusedly at his sister while acquiescing.

Elia beaming, resumed talking about the children, "Aegon is growing so fast; the very picture of health and starting to speak somewhat. Daenerys, the dear girl is quite sweet. She takes after her mother." Elia looked rather sad as she said this and Ashara nodded; the former Queen had been very good to them both.

Elia continued, "Jon is a rather quiet child, as well. Rhaenys for all her shyness is quite glad to have a brother who is, likewise, dark of hair and Viserys seems to enjoy the prospect of having more young ones to order about." She halted as she noticed the beginnings of a frown on Oberyn's face.

Ser Jaime, seemingly ignoring the change in the atmosphere, broke the silence which permeated the hall, "My Queen, Maester Pycelle probably sent the Prince and the Princess along to the nursery by now. Surely they would love to see Lady Ashara again."

Elia smiled a bit, though it was easy to see the smile was forced. Though she did not look in his direction, she took her husband's hand and squeezed it before letting go, "Quite right, Ser Jaime. Come, my dearest friend."

Ashara poked her daughter in the stomach to incite a giggle, "Come, my dear, let's leave the boring talk and we can see some new friends, hmm?" At the young girl's shy nod, Ashara turned to walk towards the door. While Ashara made her way to the door Oberyn's frown deepened completely while Rhaegar and the three members of the Kingsguard tensed. Elia caught her brother's eye and shook her head at her brother as if to say, 'Please, this is not the time'. Even though Oberyn's expression softened the rest party still looked at one another uncomfortably. Ser Gerold's hand nearest to his sword's sheath twitched slightly as if in anticipation of something. Elia for the last time looked between her brother and equally tense husband with an expression which could only be a mix of pleading, exasperation, and unease. After sending a look to Ser Jaime, who responded with an imperceptible nod of his own, Elia silently made her way out of the room.

Once his sister and her friend were out of his hearing Oberyn let loose the anger he was holding. "You left my sister and her children here, fought in that fool war using good Dornish men, in the process lost my dear uncle, and you thought the best present for your victory, for my sister, was your bastard!"

Rhaegar had been expecting the outburst, but, he did not expect this quite so early in their meeting. "Brother, Elia and our children were safe from the war in King's Landing. If I thought there would have been any danger you know I would have sent them to you and Prince Doran. I was not the one who ordered Ser Lewyn to fight with me and you are hardly the only one to mourn his passing. I loved him well and you know it. It was my duty to fight in that war and now with the mother dead I have a duty to my child—"

"You talk to me of duty? If you had done your duty then there would have been no war to speak of. You betrayed your wife and her children in, that mad father of yours held them hostage because of it, you have that wolf-girl's child in my sister's home, and you have the nerve to tell me that all you were doing and are doing was your duty?

Ser Arthur interjected strongly, grabbing onto Oberyn's tunic, "My Prince, please. I understand your anger, but, you, yourself, have…"

Oberyn, in no mood to listen, interrupted him, "I have what? Bastards! Is that what you were going to say, Arthur? No matter how many bastards I had or may have, I have no wife, paramour, nor any other woman I claimed as my own. Nor have I ever embarrassed a woman publically as this King of yours has done to my sister, not once, but, twice. And if I was married, I would have never taken leave of my senses and dishonor her even further by taking the whore I embarrassed her with to my wife's homeland then return in high spirits and dump a child on my wife! So, go on tell me how much you understand my anger!"

Oberyn's voice got progressively louder and he was shaking in rage during this tirade. Sers Arthur and Jaime had to hold him back while Ser Gerold kept Rhaegar at a distance while he pulled his sword out in defense of his king.

Ser Jaime while keeping a firm grip on Oberyn's left arm interjected, "Prince Oberyn, I have a sister myself, one that I love so dearly and I know that I would fight even the Seven for her, but, I would not let her see me in a rage for nothing, not for this. I know that the Queen would not want her brother to fight her husband; certainly not over a father keeping his child."

"Oberyn, still angry, tried to shake out of the knights' grasps. "You are no father, nor will you ever be; your vows to him will not allow it. And what do you know about my sister or how she would feel about anything?"

"I don't need to be a father to know what it is like to be a son who lost his mother young and the babe is too young to even remember his. The Queen shows no animus towards the child and the child needs a mother, who better than the Queen herself? And I know because I was here with the Queen and I knew her before then. She would not like you both to argue."

Oberyn still looked unconvinced, but, he stopped struggling. Ser Arthur chose to press the point further, talking in a whisper. "It was her choice, my Prince. She has said she wishes to keep the child about her. You have seen for yourself she wishes not to press the matter any further. It would not do to let the children, much less anyone else in this city, to know of this dissension; not with the other lords making their way to King's Landing. Please let this end here."

Looking at his good-brother, he spit out, "Fine, I will say no more about the child, but, rest assured we are nowhere near done; King or not." With that he stormed out and Arthur, hesitating slightly, trailed after him.

Ser Jaime looked at his king and his remaining brother, "At least there was no blood shed." They did not deign to reply.

* * *

Elia and Ashara deciding to not think about what may be occurring in the throne room found the day had been bright and the weather quite pleasant. Collecting all six of the children, though they made sure the youngest were quite bundled up, took them into the garden. The pair of ladies and the nurse, sitting some distance away to give the other two women privacy, sat on thick blankets watching as Viserys attempted to teach Rhaenys and Alya some game he claimed to have invented. Aegon attempted to roll around on the edge of one blanket while one fair haired and one dark haired child kept their focus on a loud toy in the nurse's hand. Sers Barristan, Oswell, and Willem sat some distance away on benches lining one of the walkways of the park talking while keeping watch. Though the scene was picturesque the pair of women whispered together speaking of less than ideal subjects.

Ashara sighed, "Oh, some would be happy to marry 'a beauty' such as me, but, any time someone was seriously considered by my lord brother there were always questions of whether or not Alya would be better off with her father's family and when it became plain enough that I have no desire to part with Alya the matter usually ended there. I would not accept that no matter if I truly wanted the matches that were made available. The current Lord Stark is now married to the Tully girl who used to be betrothed to Brandon. I could hardly send my child, Brandon's child, to her care".

Ashara laughed softly as she looked at her daughter, "Most noble houses in Westeros would balk at a Dornish match and they certainly would not agree to a match with someone who would willingly dishonor herself with a less than large dowry." Elia and Ashara both smiled ruefully. "Only, I daresay not even a Dornishman would take me now."

Elia seemed rather troubled by this, "I could understand most of Westeros, but, what is one more Sand in Dorne? Our people are hardly shy when it comes to taking lovers, or marrying those with base-born children."

"Our people are freer than in the other six kingdoms, but, even they have limits. It's one thing to be a bastard daughter, it is quite another to be an unmarried lady with a bastard girl and the father was not your paramour and not Dornish to boot. "

Elia looked at Ashara and then she new there was something her friend was not telling her. "Tell me dear friend. What really was the matter?"

Ashara looked as though she would rather not say, but seeing that it was Elia asking, she would not lie. "It is not because she is a Sand; it is because her father was a Stark." Elia did not know what that meant.

"I do not need to tell you our people have long memories. It does not help she was conceived during the events of that damnable tourney. Even the minor houses did not take kindly to Rhaegar's actions that day." Elia and Ashara shared a commiserating look remembering the events of that whole affair. "Alya even has the look of the Starks."

"What do her looks or her parentage matter?"

"The situation would have been salvageable if nothing else happened, but, then the Stark girl disappeared and early on there were whispers. Dorne is no stranger to peculiar and rash Targaryens, and it is said Rhaegar may have pursued her but no one believes Lyanna Stark, who cried at Rhaegar's songs at that Tourney, who Rhaegar honored above you publically, was not all that unwilling to go away with him. That made all the difference. There were ugly rumors starting…and of all the places Rhaegar could have taken her, he chooses Dorne! No Dornishman saw that as anything but an insult."

Elia closed her eyes, as if in distress at this, while Ashara continued, a frown marring her face, "And with Brandon, in one breath they say it was a tragedy then in the next they say Brandon died engaging in a fool's errand. It is believed if Brandon hadn't stormed into King's Landing calling for Rhaegar, Aerys would have never killed him and his father and war would not happened. Oh, they can and do curse Aerys, in private, but, though mad Aerys was king and they say only fools would take such risks."

Gazing at her daughter, Ashara continued, "No one blames Ned Stark for going to war for justice, but, they say Lyanna and Brandon Stark's impulsiveness coupled with the Targaryen's special brand of madness almost ruined the realm. When the banners had been raised, it was no secret the only reason why Prince Doran sent men to fight for the Targaryens was because Aerys would not let you leave King's Landing. Some Dornishmen who fought for Aerys died."

Ashara's mouth twisted into grimace. "It is not pretty or fair, but, Aerys was the king and it was Rhaegar's duty to do as his father and King bid. That most can understand and accept even though they dislike what Aerys and Rhaegar had done. Shying away from anything related to the Starks is quite another matter and is far easier to do". At that the two women stopped speaking for a while just sitting, lost in their own thoughts.

Some minutes later a cry came from the dark haired child which the nurse tried to quiet. Ashara spoken then, "Will Rhaegar not send his son to his uncle? No one would have cause to say anything; after all, most men would foster their sons. Would you not wish that? They would hardly blame you. You did not ask for Jon to be brought here."

Elia smiled ruefully, as Aegon tried to crawl into his mother's lap, "Even after I had Aegon, Aerys would say if I had been healthier Rhaegar would have never been drawn to that 'wolf-bitch', as he used to call her. Some of the lords and ladies probably feel the same, though not because of girl, but, that they felt Rhaegar would not have done the same if he married one of their daughters; though I doubt any would voice the thought now. As you say, I do not know Ned Stark any more than you do. Rhaegar wants Jon here; the children have become used to him, and it is not as though we do not have the means to keep him." Her gaze turned to where Viserys was pretending to be the Black Dread chasing the laughing, younger girls.

"A few nights before he died Aerys sat Viserys down and told him of the Blackfyre Rebellion in an effort to teach him what it meant to be a true Targaryen, while glaring almost everyone around him. Even though Rhaegar never married Lyanna, no matter if he has the look of a Stark, Jon is Rhaegar's son. He is innocent in this. He asked to be born to Rhaegar no more than I wanted Rhaegar to have children with someone else. Send him away and who knows what Lord Stark or men who fought against us would teach him. I would see him raised with my children, and I would treat him as if he had been my own second son not my husband's bastard. I do not wish to give him a reason to become resentful or provide others leverage to use him against my children. Perhaps keeping him here will prevent that. Though it sounds selfish and it may well be, but, I can not risk my children's legacy. Aerys and Rhaegar did that enough for all of us."

Once she was done speaking Elia looked as though was rather shocked and embarrassed by her own outburst. Elia never spoke about Rhaegar this way before or Aerys, for that matter; though Ashara could hardly fault her friend for it. Aerys' madness had troubled many in the Keep for years. She admitted to herself, if she had been at King's Landing she would have been even harsher with Rhaegar than she had been after the events at Harrenhal. Though Oberyn informed her a little bit of what Elia had written in letters to Dorne after Aerys had that accident which took his life, she suspected she did not know everything of what transpired while she had been at Starfall. Ashara, after a few moments still did not know quite what to say to her usually mild-mannered friend.

As it was, Elia gave her some news which caused her to become distracted from those thoughts entirely, "Lord and Lady Stark will be arriving within the month for the coronation. I daresay, at least, Lord Stark would want to see Alya and Jon."

"I see. Well, I suppose it would not do to bar him from seeing Alya completely, for Alya's sake. She deserves to know her father's family even if her father is gone and she will not have his name."

Elia's gaze fell once more on Jon and Ashara's fell on Alya. Elia spoke, as if trying to encourage her and reassure her own self at the same time, "I do not claim to know much about him, but, I do know Lord Stark loved his family and is honorable in his own way."

The conversation descended into silence, the two women had similar thoughts. Ned Stark would want to know the children of his brother and sister. They would need to prepare themselves for the day the children ask about why Lord Stark and others would have a peculiar interest in them, which would lead to discoveries of their respective deceased parents. Ashara and Elia decided they did not look forward to that in the slightest.

* * *

After the evening meal Rhaegar waited for his wife and her brother to join him in his solar. Rhaegar hoped this meeting fared better than the earlier one. Even if they were not as close as Rhaegar hoped they would be by now, it had pleased him that Elia had not liked the idea of Oberyn and Rhaegar being at odds. If she had no warm feelings towards him she would have likely not cared either way. In truth, he had expected the less warm greeting from Oberyn. Oberyn was always close to Elia, short tempered, and he was still furious at Rhaegar for what he believed to be slights against his sister.

Doran had not left Dorne for years and Oberyn was his chief emissary now. Even though the situation with the other lord improved once peace was brokered after the Trident, he needed Dorne's public support; especially if he was to contend with Lord Tywin. Tywin Lannister would expect something in return for his support in the war, even that support came late. And Rhaegar did not have much to give him. Rhaegar could not forget Lord Tywin served as his father's Hand for twenty years and that the reason why they had a rift was because his father named the Lannister heir as a member of the Kingsgaurd. Rhaegar could not relieve Ser Jaime from his service without having it result in an uproar. He could not name the man Hand again, and he had no sibling or child of marriageable age to give Tywin or any other Lannister, for that matter. The one thing he did have: an unmarried good-brother who despised him.

Only if Oberyn agreed could he take the offer of a match to Lord Tywin. It would help if Oberyn saw that it was Elia's idea. Still, he had not discussed the idea with Ser Jaime, who had not seen his father in years. Elia believed the knight would welcome a match between their siblings. Elia offered that she knew the knight well enough to where she would be able to convince him, and that she was sure Jaime would be agreeable, particularly as there was a lack of high-born potential husbands for Lady Cersei. He supposed there was validity to Elia's claims. Since he returned, Rheager noticed Elia and Jaime got on well. It pleased him Jaime had taken his promise to look after his family to heart.

Rhaegar did not have the time to finish his thoughts as his wife and good-brother entered the solar with Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell standing guard outside. Rhaegar rose to kiss his wife, and was rather pleased she returned it. Oberyn said nothing.

Rhaegar tried to be civil, offering them both some wine one of the servants had left. "Please sit. Brother, is everything in your chambers to your liking?"

Oberyn taking a seat, replied just as civilly, "Yes, quite. Elia said you needed to ask me something."

Rhaegar returned, "Yes, I had been meaning to broach the subject earlier, yet, there was not a chance to." Elia looked inquisitive though neither man looked her in the eye and did not elaborate for her.

Oberyn said rather sharply, "Yes, what is it?"

Elia with a look directed at her brother, spoke this time, "Brother, as you know, most of the lords have vowed to support us, but, we fear some would renege on their support if not given something valuable in return."

Oberyn softened, "I see. Most would welcome peace; the war had been costly for most of Westeros". There was plain rebuke in that, though Rhaegar did not press the matter.

After a moment, Oberyn continued, curious, "Who is it that you fear will draw back their support?"

"Lord Tywin", Elia said flatly. Oberyn laughed slightly, his expression demonstrating a clear lack of surprise.

"Would not making him Hand be significant enough gratitude for his support?"

Rhaegar interjected, "I offered the position to Lord Arryn, who accepted. Lord Tywin has not been made aware of this decision."

"Ah, and you need something else for him then, Your Grace. What did you have in mind?"

"For you to marry Cersei Lannister".

Rhaegar decided that seeing Oberyn's shocked reaction was worth the cost of having this conversation. At any rate a surprised Oberyn was better than an Oberyn who shouted accusations at him.

"Had Lord Tywin sent word of his desiring this?" The dark haired prince looked at his sister, "The idea of the match was dissolved by Lord Tywin once, why would he agree this time?"

It was then that Rhaegar remembered Elia's lady mother and Joanna Lannister had tried to match Oberyn with Cersei once before except the match fell through when Lady Lannister passed away. Rhaegar thought it best there were no unfortunate circumstances to stop the match from occurring this time.

The next words Elia spoke proved to Rheagar she and Oberyn were, in deed, kin, "Lord Tywin wanted a prince for his daughter then. My brother, you are the only prince left, and now, there are even fewer high lords for her."

Oberyn laughed freely. "Ah, yes; that would be a good point in favor of the match. I remember her. Comely thing she was, spirited as well. Is it something you really want, Elia?"

"I would see you married to her and Lord Tywin not dissatisfied. I think it would be best for us all."

"Very well, if that is what you wish, I will speak to Doran about it, though I think he would agree to this. Still, Lord Tywin is a rigid man, not many here would freely send their precious, wholesome daughters to me, him least of all."

Rhaegar rather agreed with the point, not that he voiced it. Elia seemed unconcerned, "Do not worry of it overmuch. Lord Tywin would say very little if Cersei wanted it and Ser Jaime agreed it would be the best option to take."

Rhaegar questioned his wife then. "The father and son had rarely contacted each other since Ser Jaime had been named a member of the Kingsguard. How can you be certain Ser Jaime will agree to this?"

Elia looked to be considering her words very carefully. "They are twins, our knight and his sister, and they were always close. He loves her very much and would do what he could if it meant she would be happy. I think he can be convinced and can be convincing."

Rising, Rhaegar said, "Very well, I suppose there is no better time to involve Ser Jaime, now that our brother agrees to pursue the match". He went to the door to inform Ser Barristan he needed to see the other knight.

Several minutes later, Ser Jaime entered the solar, his expression clearly wanting to know why he had been summoned, though he had not articulated it. He became more curious when Rhaegar asked him to sit and he was handed some wine by the Queen.

"Has your father made arrangements for your sister, Lady Cersei, to be married?"

Jaime had started; he had not expected this. He looked around at the trio, not quite understanding why he was being asked this now. "No, he has not. A few years ago he had hoped, unsuccessfully, for a particular match, but, no arrangements have been made for my sister since."

Elia smiled at this, she knew exactly what that match Lord Tywin had wanted. Jaime catching her eye, took a rather large sip from his cup before continuing, "Is there any particular reason why Your Graces wish to know this?"

Rhaegar nodded towards Oberyn, "We were hoped you would assist us in convincing your father to bind our families closer together."

The knight had definitely not expected this though he soldiered on, "You wish me to convince my father of this match."

Rhaegar nodded in the affirmative. "We believe this match would benefit us all."

Elia turned to Jaime, smiling softly, "It was discussed once before and now there is less reason to discard the match."

The knight asked, "Whose idea was it to revisit this?"

Elia replied, "Mine, Ser Jaime. I agree Dornish ways do take some getting used to and while my brother does have natural children…though the situation differs from what it used to be, this match still has its merits, more perhaps, in some respects."

While Jaime considered his wife's words, Rhaegar frowned slightly at the fond smile appearing on the knight's face. He remembered his mother speaking to him about the Martells before he and Elia were married. Not only had Oberyn been matched with Cersei, though she had been older, Elia had been matched with Jaime as well. Earlier today it had been Ser Jaime who calmed Oberyn using Elia as the reason for the prince to not fight with him. Just how familiar had Elia and Jaime become while he was away at war?

To distract himself from such thoughts he asked, "Do you not think your Cersei could be very happy married to my good-brother?"

Oberyn spoke then, "From what I remember of our sojourn to Casterly Rock, I do not think Lady Cersei would be the type to mind adjustments and a bit of a lack of convention". Elia and Jaime joined Oberyn in a laugh. Rhaegar did not quite like the way Ser Jaime smiled at his wife before the man asked to take Oberyn aside to speak to him privately.

Once the pair stepped out of the room Rhaegar turned his gaze to his wife who was calmly sitting drinking her wine. Elia caught him looking and asked if anything was the matter.

"I did not get to speak much to Ashara. How has she fared since leaving for Starfall." Apparently that topic was a rather unwelcome one as Elia's face grew grim.

"Once this matter of Cersei Lannister is settled, we ought to look for a match for her; one that would not result in her having to be separated from her child. I am certain you would agree to that."

Rhaegar thought the better of offering a reply to the whole of that. "She has always been a good and loyal friend to us. I will make inquires amongst the lords who will be soon arriving. I am certain we can make a fine match for her". He decided it would be best to move on to a safer topic.

"Speaking of arrangements, the party arriving with Lord Arryn will include Lord Hoster Tully and his younger brother. What do you say to my offering Lord Brynden the available position on my Kingsguard?"

She smiled wryly, "An inspired choice. He is quite the warrior. If he would accept, it would do nicely."

She smiled stiffly once, before turning her attention to the door. Some minutes passed before the pair returned. Oberyn looked faintly amused, while Jaime looked as though a weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

Jaime smiled at Oberyn, "You can trust I will do whatever I can to make my father agree to the match."

Once that was done Elia got up stating she was going to retire. Rhaegar moved to get up, planning to escort her. Jaime spoke up, smiling, "No need to trouble yourself, Your Grace. Once I see Her Grace to her chambers I will start that letter to my father".

Rhaegar decided he did not like the way Jaime smiled at his wife before the both of them left. Oberyn noting his reaction, grinned, shark-like, "I think I shall enjoy his being my good-brother."


	5. Chapter 5

It was a grim morning; the color of the sky was a dull grey. It was fitting then, that today be day the lords who rebelled against the yoke of King Aerys come to King's Landing to pay obeisance to their new king.

Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, headed the party. He was dressed formally, in the sky-blue colors of his most noble house. He was to officially be named Hand of the King today, not that many knew of it. For some reason the new king, King Rhaegar Targaryen, the First of His Name, had not informed him why he wished it that way. Jon Arryn was too tired from grief and war to ask then, nor did it matter to him now. Still, he knew it would be better to be on this new king's council than be out on the fringes where nothing could be done if the man turned out to be anything like his father. Looking at the companion to his left, he wondered if this king had not been worse than mad Aerys in some ways.

The expression on the long face of the Lord of the North, Ned Stark, matched the atmosphere. Ned Stark was dressed in black, the colors of his house and for mourning. Ned Stark did not want to be in King's Landing; not now, nor ever again. Starks did not fare well here. He lost a father, a brother, a sister, and a man who was as close as a brother, to those in King's Landing; he would be glad to be gone from the place. Yet, it was his duty to come: the new king demanded it and there were the child to consider. A child, he mused, that should not exist. It not was his, but, it was his blood all the same and his love of family and sense of honor required him to be here. The child would not share his name, but, for the family he had lost he would at least ensure he was being treated well.

If the Lord of Storm's End, Stannis Baratheon, did not wish to be in King's Landing he gave no indication of it. He was just as grim as the other two men he rode along side; yet, if anyone described Stannis Baratheon, grim was a commonly used term to describe him. He was also dressed in black though clasp of his cloak was in the shape of a stag. Though he could hardly claim affinity for his deceased brother which either man travelling with him would, he had loved his brother and mourned him. If he had not he would have never went to war, never risked treason, for him. Still, traditions must be observed and duty done regardless of how he felt for his brother. He was here because he was summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to King Rhaegar Targaryen. He broke his vows to do his duty to one king; he would not do so again, once was more than enough for all that it had gotten him: branded a former traitor, one dead brother, and another brother; a child, who he had little idea of what to do with.

Behind these three rode two gentlemen of some age. One of these was the Lord of the Riverlands, Hoster Tully. The other was his brother Ser Brynden. Lord Hoster and Ser Brynden rode together quietly. They had very little to say to each other. Ser Brynden could not fathom why he had been summoned to King's Landing. Lord Tully had not liked it, but, the King insisted on it. Behind them was a wheelhouse carrying both Lord Tully's daughters and Lord Baratheon's youngest and now only other brother, Renly. Some of their retainers rounded out the rest of the party. Only the young boy felt any excitement at the prospect of being in King's Landing.

The party came to a stop at the gates where they were met by an almost entirely somber party led by the former Hand and a friend of the King's, the King's Dornish good-brother, two members of the Kingsguard, and the King's younger brother, who it must be said was excited to have been allowed to greet these new arrivals. Once greetings were stiffly exchanged, the lords were informed they were to be taken directly to the waiting King and Queen, the ladies would be taken to the apartments set aside for their use "to rest", while Ser Darry herded the young prince and the young lord to the nursery to play. Once they all began to make their way through the Red Keep everyone stayed silent and just considered everyone else.

* * *

Jon Connington took measure of the man who would be his friend's Hand. He knew why Rhaegar had chosen him. Jon Arryn had an air of maturity about him, and he was well regarded by all of Westeros. Jon was rather thankful his friend had not asked him to be Hand again. He was ill-suited to that responsibility. Jon was thankful he would be leaving for Griffin's Roost once the coronation festivities ended. It seemed to him that Lord Baratheon did not have the looks and charm of his brother, perhaps not even the personality to go with it, either. Perchance it would be a good thing, Robert Baratheon had been quick to anger and it got him killed. Jon's gaze turned to Lord Stark. Jon barely remembered the girl who caught Rhaegar's attention; however, Jon was certain he could not imagine the attraction at all.

Oberyn looked at the former rebels. He knew of the reputation of Jon Arryn; a fair man by most accounts, but, still he rebelled and Oberyn did not trust just anyone with the safety of his sister and her children, not even Elia's husband. He would not forget it had been fortune on Rhaegar's side that day at the Trident and Lord Tywin's late support which prevented a truly dire fate for his sister and her children because of those rebels. Still, the man had something to recommend him. This Lord Baratheon, however, was far too serious; then again, Oberyn expected it. It would be no easy or cheerful activity to pay tribute to the man who killed your brother and Oberyn remembered the story of his parents' deaths years ago: dead on the shores of their home failing to finish an errand required of them by the Mad King. Looking at the stern man, he could easily see why Elia and Ser Jaime avoided matching Cersei with him. Still, he felt a sort of kinship for the man not that he would never voice it, his sibling suffered because of the Targaryen's damnable choices. Looking at Lord Stark, however, Oberyn could not contain a flare of dislike. True, the man had not done him any harm, but, his sister was the cause of Elia's grief; though to be fair, he knew that fool good-brother of his was to blame for most of it. Though he was not in the mood to be overly kind, he did feel pity for the man; he had lost most of his family, though he would regain some of it today.

* * *

Dressed in Targaryen colors King Rhaegar, First of His Name, sat on the Iron Throne which was forged by his ancestor. Standing next to him was his wife, dressed also in Targaryen red and black. Though, he supposed she chose to do so deliberately, Rhaegar found that he rather liked it when she wore the colors of his house, particularly because she had been distant with him for the past few days, claiming she was busy with the preparations for the mass arrivals and the coronation festivities. Though her face did not betray it, because of the slight trembling of the hand which he held in hers he knew she was nervous. He suspected her nervousness had to do with arrival of Lord Stark because he had overheard her talking to Ashara, Oberyn and Ser Jaime about how to best introduce the children to him. Rhaegar decided it would be best to have Ser Jaime remain in the nursery with Ashara and the children today and for them to explain the situation while he finished these necessary talks.

The group silently waited for Sers Barristan and Ser Oswell to escort the incoming party to the throne room. Rhaegar chose those men carefully, Ser Barristan fought valiantly and even the lords who fought against him regarded him well and Ser Oswell was very loyal to him. Rhaegar looked out to Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur who stood on either side of the dais. Ser Gerold was the Lord Commander and Rhaegar hoped his presence would make it easier for Ser Brynden to agree to join the ranks of the Kingsguard. The air was rife with a nervous energy and the stance the two men chose proved it though there would not be much ceremony today. Rhaegar thought it would be best considering the tense past that all of these men shared with him.

A servant announced the party and the doors were opened. Nothing was said while the party made its way through the room. The five lords said nothing while examining their new king and inclined their heads towards Elia who nodded right back, who said nothing. Rhaegar inclined his head, "Welcome to King's Landing, my lords. I know the journey has been long but we have business to discuss".

Jon Arryn was clearly chosen as spokesperson, his expression relieved, almost as if he welcomed the fact that there would be no excessive pleasantries exchanged. "Thank you, Your Grace; that would be welcome."

Rhaegar rose and walked to Lord Arryn and in his outstretched hand was the seal of the Hand of the King which he handed to Jon Arryn. Only Lord Tully and Ser Brynden exchanged glances, so it was clear Jon Arryn kept his word and said nothing to anyone except Lord Stark and Baratheon who had been present when Rhaegar made the offer to Jon Arryn. Lord Arryn thanked him and after swearing to do right by the requirements of his new office, Jon Connington led the man away to the Tower of the Hand where his wife, chambers, and solar would be waiting for him, while discussing with him the role Rhaegar set for him in the coronation ceremonies.

Rhaegar turned to Lord Tully and offered him a position on his council Master of Laws which he had accepted. Rhaegar then turned to the younger Tully decided to make his offer to Ser Brynden. Lord Tully looked surprised and exchanged another glance at his brother before Ser Brynden accepted the role of a member of Rhaegar's Kingsguard. After some minutes Lord Tully begged tiredness and so Ser Gerold led both of the men away. Lord Brynden would be presented as the newest member of the Kingsguard at the tourney after the coronation. Once that was done the true business of today was started.

Rhaegar turned to Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon, "You do me a great honor by accepting my invitation for coming to King's Landing. I thank you for it. I know it is difficult given what you all have faced because of my house." Given the circumstances, he did not try to say more.

Rhaegar was so focused on wondering what they would say that it wasn't until it occurred to him that Ned Stark and Stannis Baratheon hadn't been looking at him, but to his wife, that he came to notice Elia came to stand by his side. Ned Stark had an expression on his face which mix of pity and something else Rhaegar could not identify. Stannis Baratheon looked at her intently before turning back to Rhaegar, "It is our duty to do what we can for the good of the realm." Ned Stark said nothing. Rhaegar knew not to press for further. From the corner of his eye Rhaegar saw that Elia smiled at that.

She finally spoke then, "That pleases us greatly, Lord Baratheon." She turned to Ned Stark, "While His Grace and Lord Baratheon speak, I would have you escort me to the nursery. There are some who I believe you are anxious see and anxious to see you as well." Lord Stark frowned at the wording while Lord Baratheon seemed to unclench his jaw in confusion. Before he could say something, Elia took Lord Stark's arm and flounced out of the room with Oberyn and Ser Barristan flanking the rear.

* * *

Once outside the door, Lord Stark spoke, hesitatingly in a low voice, "Your Grace in the throne room, you said some. Who else but my nephew is there who wish to see me?"

"Neither Lord Dayne nor Ashara have not written to you have they?" To Lord Stark it seemed less a question and more of a statement.

Thoroughly confused, he ventured, "Is there any reason why they should have?"

"I would speak to you about Harrenhal." Ned Stark frowned remembering that accursed tourney and turned to the Queen sharply. He doubted she of all people would happily recount the events of that time.

She nudged him to resume walking, "What of it?" he asked in a lower voice.

"Aside from the events I needn't remind you of; I ought to tell you that the rumors of Ashara Dayne being 'dishonored' at the tourney were true."

"I do not partake in rumor-mongering, Your Grace. What does that have to do with me?"

"Because she had a child and you have a niece, Lord Stark."

Ned halted again and he sighed deeply. "Brandon is, was, the father of Lady Ashara's child."

"Yes. And they are both here."

"And she would allow me to see this new niece of mine?"

"Yes. Alya is her name."

Ned Stark ran a hand over his face. He wondered what other surprises these Targaryens would have for him.

He started again uncomfortably, "I am glad to hear that I would be able to know my brother's child. Aside from the war of course, why had not the Dayne's informed me before? I still must ask is Lady Ashara not married. Arrangements could be made…" It was only when Oberyn Martell snorted that Ned Stark remembered he and the queen were not alone.

The Queen shot her brother a look. Ruefully turning towards Ned she said, "You are as honorable as we expected, yet, Lady Ashara had not felt comfortable with the idea." Ned Stark looked expectantly, and so Elia told him, reluctantly. "Given the circumstances which pitched Dorne and the North at opposing spectrums of the war, Lady Ashara had not felt comfortable with a Northern match. As it was, your lady wife, Lady Catelyn had been betrothed to Lord Brandon." Ned could hardly deny that would be uncomfortable. She ended with: "His Grace and I are looking into appropriate matches for her."

"I see, yet, I am glad that she would be willing for me to be a part of my niece's life."

"One does see the benefit of being practical in certain matters."

Ned hesitated before saying, "Ah. If it pleases you, I can speak to the King about fostering my nephew with me."

"That will not be necessary, Lord Stark, though I do thank you for your offer. His Grace believes, and I agree with him, that Jon is best served remaining with us. I do not wish for my children to be separated from their brother."

"Jon?" He said sounding out the name, "That is very generous, of you, Your Grace."

"There is nothing generous about it; he is my husband's son. His place is with his father." Ned looked nonplussed at this and so Elia just had to laugh slightly. "This is hardly the first time such a thing has happened and I doubt it to be the last. It might seem strange to someone not a woman, my lord, but, that husbands can be unfaithful rarely is surprising, even if we hope it is never so."

Ned Stark remembering the conversation that he and Lyanna once had about Robert being unfaithful looked alarmed though he did not want to speak about that. "It does not displease you, having him here?"

"It matters not if I am displeased. Jon is a child, my lord. Neither he nor I chose this, though I can say I am not displeased. The choice was made by my husband and your sister. Because his living father is here, he would be here."

Ned Stark felt a jolt when he heard this. The way she said this chilled him; it was just so matter of fact; as if all of it no longer mattered. He thought unkindly, perhaps to this woman, it truly does not matter. His sister was dead, and Elia Martell of the house Targaryen still was Rhaegar's wife and now his sole queen and none of that would change.

Still, he was curious and disturbed at what she said last, "My sister's choice?"

"I did not know her well, but, Lord Stark, tell me, that mystery knight at Harrenhal…if I was to tell you that it was your sister would that surprise you?"

Ned looked away and replied flatly, "No."

"So then, she was not the type to simply allow herself to be dragged away quietly, now was she?"

"No, she was not."

Elia looked sardonically at him, "Lord Stark, did you think my husband capable of absconding with someone like by force, even before he gave her those roses?"

Ned knew he had not believed it, he felt he had to defend his sister. "She had no choice in accepting the roses. Even though everyone knew she was betrothed, they were given to her by a prince."

She countered, "I remember she cried as my husband sang, then. Tell me, where was love of her betrothed, then?"

Ned's anger rose in that moment, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. The woman looked placidly back. As Ned disquieted was at the woman's frankness, she appeared to be calm in face of his emotions.

"She had a choice in whether or not to return the roses. She chose not to."

The queen continued; this time her tone was piteous. Ned could not understand how the jilted wife could be the one to feel pity. "I do not deny that my husband is the start of it. I assure you, I do not dismiss my husband's actions. As good as a man he could be, he is his father's privileged son, and you know now that madness can touch them, even the best of them. It is unfortunate, but, our sex is judged for our actions far more harshly, and if she was old enough to be betrothed then she is old enough to be judged, no matter if she was only five and ten and no matter who else was at greater fault." Ned would not argue that point, he was far too tired.

"So, then, she made a choice, as had my husband. Though we were not involved in making the choices they made, we must live with the consequences of other's choices. And so here we are."

Ned was so entranced by what this woman was saying that he hadn't noticed they stopped before a heavy wooden door with a sentry in front of it. This odd queen stopped to exchange greetings with the man who opened the door for them. The small room had toys littering one corner and a bookshelf with some tomes lining the topmost shelf. It appeared that this was a school room of sorts. The white of the cloak and the fair hair indicated that the man sitting with the silver haired Targaryen prince and the young Baratheon was Ser Jaime Lannister. The pair of boys had been eagerly listening to some story about the knight's youthful adventures in Casterly Rock until they saw the group come into the room and fell silent while the knight rose to greet them.

The newly arrived group exchanged some words with Ser Jaime before stepping into a corridor which had doors on either side. One door, Ned suspected later, led to a room later set aside for the nurse, the other door led to the rather large nursery. The back wall had two windows which overlooked Visenya's Hill. In the space between the windows, chairs were lined. Ser Darry sat on one of those chairs. Another chair was occupied by a woman who Ned presumed was the nurse. He saw a small bed, large enough to fit a child of four years, plastered against the left wall. He presumed this to be the bed of the Princess Rhaenys, as she and another dark haired girl were sitting on it. There was a crib to the right wall, and a large bureau was behind it, while two smaller cribs were in the center. A woman, Ashara Dayne, he remembered, was seated next to the Princess's bed singing to the girls.

Elia took him first to one crib, the one with a dark haired child inside. His nephew, Jon, Lyanna's boy; the one she would never get to hold again. The child looked entirely like a Stark, and Ned found he was both ecstatic and pained at the thought. He moved to hold the boy, but, noticing Ser Darry's movement to get up, he halted. When the queen nodded at the knight, the grizzled old man sat down again, is when Ned took his chance. Ned held him for many moments just examining him until the child let out a cry. The queen took him from his arms and the child settled while the Queen put him back into the crib.

Ashara Dayne fell silent when the saw the group who entered and said nothing until she saw that Ned Stark was holding his nephew. Soon after, while Elia distracted Rhaenys, Ashara stood up to greet Brandon's brother. She remembered him as the shy young man she danced with that once. While she had not loved Brandon, seeing a Stark pained her.

"My Lord Stark", she greeted with a curtsey. She hugged her daughter to her, clutching her in her arms. Ned had not been expecting a niece to look so much like a Stark. In fact he hadn't expected a niece at all only a nephew, but, as much as it pleased him, it pained him to know that his brother and sister would never live to see their children grow.

"My Lady Dayne, I…" Looking at the girl, he did not know quite what to say.

"I know I should have informed you, however…"

Ned Stark did agree that she should have, but, this was not the time to air that grievance and he had understood the reasons the queen cited. In the end, he decided on, "What is done is done. Might I see her, Alya, is it, now?"

Ashara nodded and introduced him to the girl, who looked so much like his brother, though she had her mother's eyes. He thought she was lovely. Soon enough the novelty wore off for the girl who was allowed to go play.

The conversation between Lady Dayne and Ned was tense though polite. "Would I be allowed to write to her?" "Yes, please do. I insist." "When she is older would you be willing to let her come to Winterfell?" "Yes, thank you for the invitation; I am sure she would like that when she is older."

Once that was done other introductions were made. Soon after, Ashara rose to take Alya back to their rooms and Elia whispered to her and Ashara nodded before she left. Ned Stark was escorted out of the nursery by Oberyn Martell to the chambers set aside for his and his wife's use. Ser Barristan sat down in a chair while the Queen remained in the room intending to wait for Lady Dayne to return.

Rhaegar stood with Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent and Stannis Baratheon in a tense silence for a long time after Elia escorted Ned Stark to the nursery. Rhaegar knew any conversation with this particular lord would be difficult. Stannis Baratheon fought against him and Rhaegar had been the one to kill his brother while also being the one to elope with Robert's betrothed, not that Rhaegar could remember Stannis being particularly close to Lyanna. It was Rhaegar's good fortune that the Maester had need of him and so he left Stannis Baratheon in Ser Arthur's care for some time.

Once he returned, they spoke of Rhaegar's appointments: the one's made previously, such as Lord Arryn being Hand and Lord Tywin accepting the position of Master of Coin; and the ones made today. Stannis had agreed making Lord Hoster Master of Laws was a good choice and that Ser Brynden was a worthy knight. Rhaegar informed him that Mace Tyrell would be his Master of Ships; Stannis claimed to see the sense in that. Rhaegar claimed he still had not known who to make the seventh Kingsguard and Stannis declared no one he knew was worthy of it. That conversation eventually stalled.

Ser Oswell asked questions regarding Storm's End. Stannis had said Storm's End recovering from the war. Soon enough that was exhausted as well. Talk moved to children; it was just as stilted. Arthur spoke about Alya and so Stannis understood what the queen had meant earlier and Rhaegar marked that Stannis looked rather understanding of the situation. Rhaegar could not talk much about being a father to a daughter or having a sister because Stannis had neither. Stannis also had no sons and so talking of Aegon, or Jon most of all, would be unwise. It was a fortunate both men had younger brothers. And so they spoke of Renly and Viserys; or rather their education. Rhaegar admitted he was at a loss given that Viserys' education had already begun, Stannis countered that Renly had shown in interest in playing not in learning.

"Perhaps he requires a woman's touch. Certainly my lord has been considering marriage?" Rhaegar was hardly going to bring up his own delicate marriage.

"My Brother…" Stannis froze for a moment, before continuing, "There had been talks of my marrying the niece of Lord Florent, however, he seems less amiable towards the match as of late".

Before he was about to make an offer to Lord Baratheon, Elia and Ashara had walked in just then looking surreptitiously at Stannis Baratheon. Rhaegar unconsciously grasped Elia's hand while Ashara nodded slightly in his direction before leaving.

It was no secret the Florent's begrudged the Tyrells who allied themselves with the royal family and so the lack of these ties worked in Rhaegar's favor. Ashara's apparent agreement made his resolve even stronger. His initial thought had been to match Ashara with Jon, however, Jon proved less than receptive.

_"Jon, I would have your thoughts on a delicate matter."_

_The man with red hair replied, "Regarding what, Your Grace, the arrangements for the coronation?" as he sat in the Rhaegar's solar with a glass of wine in his hand._

_Rhaegar hesitated before continuing, "I have been thinking recently of arrangements but, not about the coronation, and I hope that because of our friendship you would at least consider what I ask."_

_Jon smiled, "Your Grace, you are my dearest friend and you honored me by naming your son for me. What did you need? Of course, I will consider it though I can not say that I will agree."_

_Rhaegar decided not to correct Jon about the circumstances for his son's naming; it would not have done him any good to bring that up, especially given what he would be asking._

_Jon looked expectantly. "I had been thinking of Lady Ashara Dayne." Jon seemed alarmed as he asked, "What of her, my friend?" Given his reaction, Rhaegar hoped his friend had not believed he planned on eloping with Ashara next._

_To clear himself of that distressing thought, he said, "You have been a friend to me for many years and she has been Elia's. She is lovely and has a proven her ability to bear children; and you, my friend, are in need of a wife, and your house needs an heir. I was hoping you would at least consider thinking of her matched with you"._

_Getting up, almost letting out a near-hysterical laugh Jon scoffed, "I have not thought to be married I was also recently exiled to Essos. I do not know her well. I only danced with her that once, at your insistence. My father…I do not how he would take her having a child already. My friend, I would do much for you, you know that, I even became Hand for your father when you left but this….You said Lady Dayne is a friend to your wife, and I know that to be true, but, she is no friend to me. Whose foolish idea was this, the Queen's?"_

_Rhaegar frowned. While he understood Jon never seemed inclined to marry and Ashara was hardly an ideal match given the circumstances, Rhaegar did not like the way Jon spoke of Elia._

_Rather sharply he started, "No, it was mine. It is the least I could do for her, as a friend. It is not as though her child's father still lives, not that much could have been done even if he was. Yet, I don't think my wife would object to her friend getting married to a close friend of mine._

_Jon smiled wryly, "She never objects to very much. Why would she on this?"_

_Rhaegar's ire rose. "Just what do you mean by that?"_

_Jon deflated seeing his friend's reaction. "Nothing at all, forgive me. It was merely something said in shock and in tiredness. Certainly there are better choices for her, other men who would be more willing?"_

_Rhaegar sighed, "She does not want a Northern match thought they would be more open about such things, given who the child's father is. At least meet with Ashara and the girl. See what you think. Because of our friendship I hope you would at least think on it. I would not have thought to ask if I did not see the need. Most other men of our age have married already …The only noble of marriageable age left I can think of is Stannis Baratheon."_

_Jon snorted, "Well, you could always tell him it is his duty to marry someone now that he is a High Lord."_

_Rhaegar looked at him blandly and so Jon capitulated slightly, "If it means that much to you I will think on it."_

Elia had laughed heartily when he told about Jon's lack of enthusiasm, citing it had been plain enough to her Jon had always been less than desirous of marriage. Knowing how Elia smiled at Jaime when a positive missive from Lord Tywin arrived in King's Landing some days after the knight sent word to his father, Rhaegar knew he had to find a match for Elia's friend and soon. Jon had been correct about this Lord Baratheon being available, and so he would try. Ned Stark would be amiable to arranging a match for his niece's mother with a man he trusted, even if only because past friendship with the man's brother. And so here he was. Rhaegar saw this as his chance to put Ashara forth.

Rhaegar spoke, "I see. Might I make a suggestion which would benefit us both?"

Stannis was curious. This king had not offered him a seat on his council and he had not expected one though this king did seem conciliatory, after a fashion. An offer of marriage? The King would not offer him his far too young daughter or sister so it must be someone else, perhaps a sister or daughter of an ally. This king would not burn him alive, but, Stannis had not come here to refuse anything outright nor had he any intention of being sent into exile or to the Wall.

"You wish to provide me with a possible match for marriage? Who did you have in mind, Your Grace?" His blue eyes narrowed slightly.

Rhaegar nodded towards Arthur, "Lady Ashara Dayne." Stannis Baratheon unclenched his jaw in shock, at what was said and the lack of reaction from the others in the room.

"Is that not a matter Lord Dayne would be looking into himself?"

Ser Arthur spoke to Stannis directly, "My sister and niece will be remaining in King's Landing until the matter is otherwise settled and my brother, Lord Dayne, has given His Grace leave to choose a suitable match. There, of course, will be a dowry".

Rhaegar turned his attention back to Stannis, "Given the circumstances I think Lord Stark would approve of someone he had trusted in the past. Regardless, Lady Dayne would be capable of mothering Lord Renly and providing you with an heir. She has always been a friend to my wife and I and I would consider her husband a friend. It would please us greatly to see her married to a loyal and dutiful husband".

Stannis considered what was said. The King had been correct that Renly could use a "mother". He also knew full well the Dayne's were friends to the Queen's family. When Robert brought him the idea of matching him with a Florent, he had remembered the family's bitterness towards the Tyrell's, the Targaryen's allies. He knew Robert loved Ned Stark like a brother, and Stark would look at him kindly for this. Further, not that it mattered much to him, but, before the war, not many families had been clamoring to give him their more beautiful daughters. Ashara Dayne was a lovely woman. Stannis Baratheon knew he was not handsome, charismatic, or beloved as much as Robert had been, but, he had always been intelligent, and now, forgiven or not, he had been on the losing side and declared traitor once. He was certain he had not imagined the stress this new king put on the words 'loyal' and 'dutiful'.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Iron Lances was a song appearing multiple times within ASOIAF and The Lord of the Woeful Countenance and The Song of the Rhoyne are plays which were mentioned in A Feast of Crows.

Ned Stark reluctantly prepared to attend the coronation of Rhaegar Targaryen. He would have refused except it had been made known to him, rather sharply by Jon that Jon was to be there. He would be grateful when this was coronation business was over and he could return home. He had regretted coming to King's Landing. If it had not been for the children and the fact that he already gave his word to be present would have not come at all. This place aside from being the source of the deaths of most of his family was completely alien to him. Save for his wife, the party which accompanied them from Winterfell, those few who were regulars in the royal nursery, and Jon Arryn, not many people interacted with him; which if he was honest suited him.

As he was not a part of the Small Council he spent very little time in the company of the King and Ned had not trusted himself to be in the King's presence much, even though he knew that the King had not forced Lyanna to run away with him. Speaking to a shamefaced Benjen solidified his view on that. The most significant clues to that effect were that Jon had been installed in the royal household as a Targaryen and that the King had said he lamented that Lyanna died before he could marry her and name her his second queen as some Targaryen's had done in the past and that it was unfortunate that Jon would never know his mother. Still, that told him very little and the King had rarely been alone and was mostly always formal with him.

Through Jon he learned that none of the other lords saw much benefit in mentioning Lyanna in the King's presence and so they did not. The Kingsguard who were always with the King, depending on their identity, had different reactions when Lyanna was discussed: Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell looked resigned yet clearly they would rather the matter done with; Ser Barristan looked at him with pity; and Ser Arthur and Ser Jaime were politely indifferent yet, he knew they were fond of the Queen. Ned had no desire to delve further; talk of her discomforted everyone and for him it would just be opening the wounds of his sister's loss all over again. The absolute truth of what happened had mattered very little for those around him and he had gotten more truth than he wished for from that conversation with the Queen on that first day and he had no desire to hear more of it.

The Queen, in public and private, now only spoke to him about Jon and other trivial matters. The bluntness of that first conversation was gone; she said her piece and the matter for her was done with. Nothing she said gave any indication to anyone about how she felt about the rest of the Starks; her tone towards him now held nothing but purely detached politeness. She was one of the few in King's Landing who even bothered to try for anything remotely polite in the first few days after his arrival. Even now he knew the stares and whispers followed him when he walked in the halls of the Red Keep.

Thinking back to day he arrived, then he remembered how he wanted to rant and rave at the Dornishwoman. The Gods knew if he was a different sort of man he would have been tempted to strike her when she spoke to him about Lyanna before they entered the nursery, but, not only had he been prepared for her vitriol; he expected worse. He knew long before he even started on his way to King's Landing that she, of all people, would not have many kind words for his sister.

He did not claim to know the minds of many women but he knew that Lyanna resented Robert's lusting, but, at least Robert said he loved Lyanna and never whored when she could see it. He had known, and his father had used to lament, that his fearless sister was headstrong and would not be intimidated into doing something she had not wanted. In fact, their lord father had agreed to send Lyanna to that tourney because it would do her good to acclimate herself with Southron gentility before marrying Robert. Instead Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Queen of Love and Beauty with Elia Martell present, started a war for the woman he crowned, and then sired a child on her and brought the child to his wife. That was a slight no woman would forgive easily when she had no reason to do so. Catelyn demonstrated a similar sentiment when he told her about Alya.

He knew that a woman would find it easier to blame the other woman and not the husband, yet, Ned did see that she had blamed Rhaegar Targaryen, but, Lyanna made for a more convenient outlet. Though he was discomfited by Southron politics, even he recognized that the woman's husband was the new King, and if he wished, could separate her children from her if she pressed too hard. Only a fool would think any good would have come from taking her anger out at her husband.

Of course the woman's brother had been present as had Ser Barristan when they were having that horrid conversation, though Oberyn had not said much and the knight never spoke to him though he looked sympathetic. No good ever came from going up against the Red Viper and the Kingsguard would do their duty and theirs was not to him. Ned hadn't fought in one war just to start another, especially not when one word or action would mean that he would be forced to abandon both children to still angry Dornishmen.

Then again, he was the one to ask her, and she answered honestly. Ranting at a woman for telling the truth of it, no matter how unkind, was beneath him. The next day he had received an apologetic note from her, but, he knew well enough she was only apologizing for the way she said what she had. He knew well enough why she did it; they would be in close proximity until he left and it would be far easier for all of them if they came to an accord.

Of course he was more alarmed at her bluntness than anything, but, he had come to understand it when he had accidently overheard Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Willem Darry speaking in the nursery some days later. Ser Darry watched him like a hawk every time he set foot in the nursery and only the Queen's pleading expression would make the old man relax in his presence. Because he was a Stark the old man apparently still did not trust him though she had earned the old man's loyalty because of the care she had given to Aerys' other children and did not demonstrate any differences between them "regardless of how cruel King Aerys had been to her".

No one had to list the Mad King's crimes for him and even he had heard of the things that Aerys had done to her after Rhaegar and Lyanna eloped. It hadn't taken much except Prince Viserys' unfiltered chattering to Lord Renly to understand that Aerys forced her to be present when his brother and father were ordered to be killed and that he blamed her for it because she could not give Rhaegar other children, not that the young boys knew the implications of what they were saying. Ned then knew that if a woman suffered and lived through the wrath of the Mad King, Ned Stark's anger could do nothing to her.

Since would be leaving his nephew in her care, he did not wish to have discord between one generation to affect the next. One thing he learned while in the Red Keep during his stay was that she had not been lying that she said she wished Jon to know his brother and sister and that practicality in that superseded everything. Wylla the nurse which had been retained shortly after Lyanna gave birth to Jon attested that the Queen treated Aegon, Daenerys, and Jon more or less the same and that was good enough for him; it would have to be.

He was glad he did practice some restraint, but, the Targaryen's were not all that he felt like getting away from. He knew Catelyn wished to be gone, as well. At first Catelyn had appeared to be perfectly pleased to be in King's Landing, yet, even that soured when he told her of Brandon's little girl. He hadn't meant to reveal it so bluntly but when she asked how the audience with the King and Queen went he felt compelled to tell her about his promise to look into the children's affairs. She had nodded in acquiescence but retired early claiming exhaustion. The next few days hardly seemed to change her mood though she claimed it was because she missed their Robb terribly.

Ashara Dayne had invited both he and Catelyn to dine with her a few days after they arrived. Catelyn could not bring herself to go, but, Ned felt compelled to and the Dornishwoman had accepted it with good grace. He had not been surprised to see Ser Arthur Dayne and Alya present, but, he had been completely nonplussed as Stannis and Renly Baratheon had joined them. Apparently the Queen had not been lying about arrangements being made regarding Lady Dayne's marriage, either; the elder Baratheon was marrying Ashara Dayne. Though none of them had been very forthcoming with the reason for the marriage, he could see that Renly was absolutely taken with his new playmate and Ashara smiled at Stannis when he had not grumbled much and did not push the child away when the girl fell asleep with her hand clutching at a pants leg. Ned decided while it seemed as though he had little choice in the matter it was convenient and he was relieved his niece would be taken care of by a man he knew was worthy of his trust. Yet, even knowing Alya would be raised elsewhere had not soothed Catelyn.

The Queen had also not been lying when she had said many would be more judgmental of women than they were of men and even those close to him had their own unflattering opinions.

His good-sister's voice unfortunately had carried. "Why does Brandon straying vex you so? Betrothals obviously don't mean much to Northmen or women for that matter. Why quiet me, sister; my lord husband says the boy is called Jon Targaryen. Do you think as different as the Queen's ways are, as humiliated as she must feel, she would allow another's child into her household if that child was proof of the King's violence; no. Both Lyanna and the King ran off together. People stray, nothing new about that; even Robert Baratheon never stopped wenching even if he went to war for the girl. You know Brandon always had hot blood. Remember what he did to dear Petyr? Trotting here to challenge the Crown Prince certainly did none of us good. Forget Brandon and the rest. We are all pardoned and you have a good life with a husband who is not as old as mine and a child. Concentrate on that".

Even if Catelyn tried to quiet Lysa's harangue, the words had cut deep. He had known that others would allow him his grief, but, for many, those he loved and lost were to be little more than cautionary tales and even forgiven, he had been a traitor. No matter if that had been what he wanted, he had his life, family seat, a high born wife, and a son. For most that would be enough. He knew clinging to anger would do him no favors. He was too tired, too grief-stricken to fight anyone on this.

Running a hand over his face, he thought, 'Yes, he would be happy to leave this place'.

* * *

The day of the Coronation proved bright and the sky was clear. Though it was early, already there were large crowds gathering outside the Great Sept at Baelor chattering excitedly. The streets were swept and the city never looked cleaner. The Targaryen banners flew high and there was a sense of excitement in the air. Many looked forward to celebrating something and many had not seen a public ceremony for some time. Recent events which would have traditionally had public ceremonies were much less happier events. The last occasions worthy of note were the deaths of Queen Rhaella and King Aerys. With the first, officially with Westeros was embroiled in a war and the story was that the King declared that it would be a "disservice to those still fighting to waste resources for lavish public ceremonies" and such reasoning was employed at the death of King Aerys.

Still there were whispers given the circumstances. After Queen Rhaella had passed most of the servants and others who worked in the Red Keep were being dismissed form their duties in droves. When King Aerys died, some of the workmen and servants who rejoined their duties or who were still kept on would speak of damage to the King's chambers and the odd smell permeating various areas of the Keep which had been burnt. It was said the smell of burnt flesh had lingered near to the old king's chambers for days after he died. The Septons and their aides proved most silent in these matters and the Silent Sisters had only done their duty and that had been that.

Now that the fighting has ended and peace reigned many were eagerly awaiting the festivities. Many who remembered the last true celebration which King's Landing held; the birth of Prince Aegon. But, the merriment of that was short lived what with the outbreak of the war some months after. After that very rarely were the members of the royal family seen; the former prince had been at war and once the former Queen died, all members of the Royal Family were kept inside the Keep for "their own safety".

This Coronation was to be a grand affair. One only had to see the influx of lords and ladies to know that to be true. Even the old Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister returned to King's Landing with his daughter for the coronation. There had been whispers of the entire Targaryen family, the children as well, taking part in the Coronation festivities. Some, although these whispers were quieter, had wondered if that would hold true for the youngest one; the one born of the Stark woman. Many were content; most remembered the King being a comely prince and no one but the truly unkind, who focused on her "foreign" status and made jabs about her health, could find fault in the new Queen, as she had given birth to two thriving children, one of them a boy child and the kingdom's heir. All were happy that between the new King and Queen and King Aerys and Queen Rhaella's other children the dynasty was secure.

There was to be a grand feast inside the Keep after the crowning of the new king. The day after, a tourney was to be held. At the tourney there was to be an announcement and presentation of the new council and additions to the Kingsguard. Rumors had sparked that some of the appointments and been rebel lords or their relations and those who offered opinions saw that as wise. Many knights and men of high birth would be participating in the festivities, though the King, himself, would forego participation, as the tourney was to be held in his honor.

When the grand party finally arrived the crowd could see that it was lead by the Captain of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, followed by other knights of the Kingsguard. Following them, the handsome, silver-haired King, majestic in Targaryen red and black, rode a strongly built, white horse. The dark-haired, exotic new Queen rode next to him, sitting on top of an equally beautiful, white mare. Those who were in the audience admired the rather striking pair. It was equally promising that both the King and Queen were smiling and looked about happily as they waved to the cheering public.

Behind the royal couple came the brothers of the Queen, Prince Doran and Oberyn Martell. Both men cut striking figures, each riding sturdy Dornish horses. Ensconced in the Prince Doran's lap was the Princess Rhaenys, the very image of her mother in miniature, who looked around in wonder. Beside them, riding on a smaller, though similar horse, was the King's younger brother, Prince Viserys, though the horse was lead by a groom. The young prince looked very much like a younger version of the king; he was even dressed similarly, though his clothing was not quite as embroidered.

Behind them was an ornate closed carriage. Some suspected that it carried the other royal children. Behind it rode a man of some years who, because he was dressed in the sky blue of his house, could be identified as Jon Arryn. Slight whispering begun as some wondered if he was to be named the Hand of the King at the tourney the next day, as he was followed in the procession by two former Hands, Lord Jon Connington and Lord Tywin Lannister. After them, came the rest of the lords and ladies present for the Coronation.

* * *

Rhaegar Targaryen, the First of His Name, was crowned King of all Westeros by the High Septon at Great Baelor's Sept with his wife with his family in attendance. Rhaegar, once the traditional vows were spoken, and the newly fashioned crown put upon his head, waited for the High Septon to crown Elia the Queen of Westeros. He never thought she looked lovelier than in that moment and it rather saddened him to remember that for him those moments had been few and in-between because his focus used to be elsewhere.

His eyes rested on the newly forged crown sitting on top of her head. Viserys could not be parted from their mother's crown and neither he nor Elia tried to take it from him. If it made his younger brother happy, then he was welcome to something that belonged to their mother. He knew since he was so very young that one day he would be crowned King, but, he had always thought his mother would be there to see it happen and he felt her loss very keenly. As for his father, he remembered both the charming man he used to be when Rhaegar was young and then he remembered the older, violent man his father became. He does not know if he misses his father, but, knows he does not want to be his father.

Once the High Septon was done with Elia, Rhaegar walked to her and they shared a smile, and though inside the Sept was not quite the correct venue, he kissed his wife. He was pleased that she returned it though she was clearly surprised. Their kiss was promptly interrupted by the disapproving High Septon who coughed as though he had to clear his throat. Slightly abashed, the pair walked out to where their families and their public were waiting.

When they made their appearance there was raucous cheering while an attendant made proclamations and then the High Septon led everyone present through various prayers dedicated to the Seven, then for the dead, and then for his reign. During this, Rhaegar swept his eyes to the platform where his children and siblings were. Rhaenys and Viserys stood next to his good-brothers who had been joined by Lady Cersei Lannister. While he was not surprised to see Doran carrying Aegon, nor that Lady Cersei was carrying Danaerys, he was rather taken aback that Oberyn unbent enough to carry Jon. He was curious but, if he was honest with himself he knew that Lord Tywin would look to it as an insult if his daughter, already marrying a second son particularly one with a few bastards of his own, would be made to carry his second son, legitimized or not. At least carrying a daughter of a King would be considered an honor.

Eyes returning to Jon, Rhaegar remembered that after defeating Robert he had fully intended on marrying Lyanna and on this day crowning both of his wives queens as Aegon the Conqueror had done with his wives. He looked at Elia again and he noticed that she too had been looking at their family with a smile on her face though when her eyes settled on Jon, Rhaegar saw that she ducked her head slightly, but, raised it quickly enough to where no one else noticed it. He wondered what she had been thinking. Even after he returned to King's Landing he never told her of his plans to wed Lyanna, given what happened, it had been a rather moot point and to address the matter would only be cruel. Rhaegar lamented that what plans he had, they were not to be. He knew now it had been madness; the same madness which turned his father into a monster.

It was because of that he could not forgive himself, even more than being unable to fulfill the prophecy he worked so hard to fulfill. Instead of stopping it he succumbed to it himself. Madness, both his and his father's, is what that had been and it drove the kingdom to war. Still, once more he looked at his wife, children, and the rest of his family before looking around over the crowd, over the lords and ladies who had once been enemies and he had to smile. They lived through it, survived and though he would not be fulfilling the prophecy, he was King, and he knew he would forge his legacy another way. He vowed to himself that he would be the king and man he should have been from the start.

* * *

Later that evening the Great Hall of the Keep was filled with people at the coronation banquet. The hall was brightly let and multiple Targaryen banners lined the walls. The King and Queen were settled on the high table under the canopy of state joined by the King's brother and both the Queen's brothers. Due to the late hour the younger royal children were sent to bed. Lord and Lady Arryn, Lord Lannister and his daughter Lady Cersei were also seated at the High Table.

Many were pleased that the feast was to consist of fourteen courses. Those in attendance saw this as being just grand enough, but, not grossly excessive. The diners enjoyed various foods included spit-roasted boars, roasted pheasants and hens, mutton and chicken cooked in rich sauces, blood oranges, honeyed pairs, & grapes were just some of the fruits; vegetables; varieties of breads, cheeses, and nuts were served as were cakes of all sorts. Wines of all types were available: Strongwine, Dornish reds and Arbor gold flowed freely; Pentoshi amber and Volantene wines were enjoyed thoroughly. While everyone ate there were various troops of mummers who put on performances. One troop of mummers performed _The Lord of the Woeful Countenance_ while another performed _The Song of the Rhoyne. In between those performances musicians played joyful and light tunes, except one who played Iron Lances which was metwith great enthusiasm on part of the audience._

Soon enough the King and Queen rose and a hush fell over the hall. The King began, "My Lords, Ladies, and honored guests, we are pleased that you have joined us to celebrate this occasion and we are thankful for it. The day of a coronation is the start of something new. True, in order for something new we would perhaps have to lose something and to have lost anything at all is to be a thing of sorrow, yet, sometimes, even in the midst of losses we are mindful of what we do have and what more we have to gain. Yes, the past has made us what we are and we should honor it and remember it, yet, we are in the present and there is a future, which we must all work towards. It is our hope that you are with us to build a better and more harmonious future. With that said…" He motioned for Jon Arryn to stand. He turned back to the audience. "No man, not even a King, can shape the future alone and so King's appoint Hands of the King to assist them with their charge, and today I give you the Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn." Loud cheers rang out at this announcement though many had suspected something of a sort, as the Lord and Lady of the Eyrie had been seated at the table with the King and Queen.

The King and Queen remained standing and they motioned toward Prince Oberyn and Lady Cersei. Some thought this curious, though it occurred to others why the daughter of the former Hand had held the Princess Danaerys earlier today. So when the cheering died down, the King spoke again, "Allow us to beg your indulgence. In the spirit of moving forward and welcoming what the future brings, today not only does it give us joy to stand before you as your King, and to announce our new Hand, but, it gives us pleasure to announce the betrothal of our good-brother, Prince Oberyn of Dorne to the Lady Cersei, daughter of Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock." Congratulations rang out for the smiling couple. Before more murmurs started, the King spoke once more, "My dear men…" He signaled for musicians to start playing, and the King and Queen made their way to the center of the hall and began to dance, while Prince Viserys was finally allowed to go sit where his new friend Renly was sitting with his brother, his brother's new fiancée, and Ser Arthur. Soon enough, others had joined in on dancing.

For many this was the first time in a long time they will have danced, and so they made a point to enjoy it thoroughly.

* * *

For Rhaegar dancing was something that he did, but, he did not particularly enjoy. That is not to say he did not do it well; neither his father, nor his mother for that matter would have allowed their son, the future King, to not be capable of dancing well, but, he would rather play music than dance. Yet, today of all days, it was expected that he dance and so he did. He did not want to think of what whispers would spark if he did not dance.

While neither he nor Elia say much to each other, he could see that Elia seemed to enjoy dancing with him and he is glad for it. It occurs to him that last time he danced with her had been before he went to the Tower of Joy. There had been very little reason to dance since then. His thoughts are interrupted as Elia laughs. He looks at her curiously as she leans in, with her lips close to his ear and he feels rather warm, but, before he can try to think about why that could be, she smiles. She says, "Look to your left". To sate his curiosity he does, at first he notices nothing but Oberyn dancing with Lady Cersei and before he could ask about what is so wondrous about that Elia grasps at his shoulder and turns him slightly, so that they are pressed closer against each other. Not only does the movement shock him, but his eyes focus where Stannis Baratheon and Ashara Dayne were dancing. It seems that even as stoic as a man Lord Baratheon proved to be, he is no match for Ashara Dayne.

Before he could be caught staring as he notices his friend Jon, Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan doing, he turns back to Elia who is all smiles and in this moment he wants to ask her something, but, he does not quite know how. Before he could get the words out it became time to switch partners and in his arms is now Lysa Arryn, while his new Hand took his wife to dance. Rhaegar smiled at her perfunctorily and she returned it with a small smile. While they were seated at the table she had not said much to him and Rhaegar did not quite know what to say to her now. She tries to start a conversation, but, he has never been a man who favors frivolous talk and it is a relief when they are forced to change partners.

This time it is Cersei Lannister. She also starts conversing with him, her face slightly flushed, "I wanted to thank Your Grace for making the announcement earlier. It is an honor as was being allowed to carry the Princess this morning."

He replies, "It was nothing. Our families have always been close. The Prince is my good-brother and you are to be the Queen's good-sister; we are almost family. I trust you are happy with the match?"

The girl blushed, and Rhaegar wonders how close Oberyn and she had become recently and if he should be alarmed. "Yes; though we had only met once before my coming to King's Landing for the coronation, my brother was rather complementary about him in the letter he wrote to our lord father and the Prince has proved to be very gallant and kind." He is relieved that he will not need to expect an angry Tywin Lannister to "speak to" Oberyn or him.

Her eyes looked past him, and they turned slightly and at first Rhaegar only caught sight of Oberyn dancing with Ashara and then in the corner of his eye he sees a flash of gleaming white. Rhaegar straightens when he sees the knight in question is dancing was with Elia and his jaw clenches slightly. Lady Cersei noticing the shift in his body seeing her brother and Elia, gushes, "My brother informed me that the Queen was the one who suggested the match and I am grateful to her for it. It was very kind of her to think of me for the Prince". Rhaegar did not feel as though he could speak and so he only nodded. He was certainly relieved when the song ended there was a pause because a different musician would start playing and Lady Cersei took her leave to join her lady aunt, Genna Lannister.

Rhaegar attempted to make his way to where Elia, who had her back to him, was carrying a conversation with another lady, if he remembered correctly, was Lady Mina Tyrell, wife to Paxter Redwyne and sister to Lord Mace Tyrell. He remembers that Mace Tyrell had been unable to attend himself, but, sent the Redwynes and his mother, Lady Olenna, as his representatives. Just before he got to her, the music started again, and he saw that Elia turned to Lord Stark who had approached her to dance. He had not thought that Lord Stark would want to dance with his wife, but, he supposed Ned Stark would have his reasons, not that he would ask the man. He moved to where Arthur and Lord Stannis were sitting with his younger brother and Lord Renly. As he approached both boys froze and looked as though Rhaegar was going to have them ordered to bed, or worse, reprimand them from stuffing themselves with lemon cakes.

"Ser Arthur, Lord Baratheon, you are not dancing?"

The knight spoke first, drink in hand, laughing, "Aye. Not this one, Your Grace. The wine is too good to waste."

He turned to Lord Baratheon who responded rather stiffly, "I am not overly fond of dancing." Rhaegar noticed that the man was drinking water. He mused internally that the man did not seem fond of drinking, either.

Lord Renly turns to his brother, "You danced with Lady Ashara." Viserys and Ser Arthur tried to smother their laughter while the man frowned at his younger brother. "Lady Ashara and I are to be married and I am not dancing with her now." True enough, the lady was dancing with Ser Barristan Selmy. The man decides not to pursue the matter.

Rhaegar looks up and he does not see Elia anywhere. What he does see is Lord Tywin approaching him with his sister. He had not noticed the song had ended and he remembered Cersei Lannister speaking to him so when the pair of Lannisters approaches him he turns to Lady Genna and asks her to dance. Just then he hears Elia's voice behind him and Lord Tywin engages his wife in a dance. He tries not to appear disgruntled; the Lannisters helped his cause. It would not do to seem ungrateful.

As they dance Lady Genna makes a few comments about the honor of letting his niece carry Daenerys and he gives her the same platitudes he gave her niece. They dance until the she claims she is tired and he gracefully lets her go just in time to see Elia dancing with Hoster Tully. He sees Lady Stark sitting at a table with her uncle, sister, and his new Hand while Ned Stark is dancing with Ashara Dayne. Rhaegar decides would not like others noticing Lady Stark's expression and so he engages her in a dance while Lord Arryn gives him a look of approval. Lady Stark is perfectly polite but they only danced to one song before she excuses herself.

Lady Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, as he remembers she is called on occasion, approaches him and decided that she would like a dance with him before "a lady of her years is forced, due to tiredness, to retire for the night." Though he does not believe that for one moment, he obliges her as the Tyrells had been his allies in the war.

Once that was done he notices his eldest good-brother sitting in a corner Rhaegar sits next to him before he speaks. "My Prince, you honor me by coming. I am glad you were here for today."

Doran looks at him. "It is not every day your good-brother and sister are declared King and Queen". Rhaegar does not say anything and it appears Doran had not expected him to as he continues, "I had wanted to meet with Lady Cersei; after all, she will join Oberyn in Dorne soon enough. My lady wife is anxious to meet her. It soothes my mind that Elia and Oberyn seem to like her. If her temperament is anything like Ser Jaime's, I am sure Mellario will come to like her as well."

Rhaegar tries not to notice that next to where Elia is dancing with Ser Gerold, Ser Jaime is dancing with his sister. He continues speaking, "How is the Princess. We do miss her and the children's presence."

"She is quite well though my daughter Arianne had taken slightly ill. Mellario had not wanted to leave her."

"Yes, quite. That is understandable. When you return to Dorne, please let them know they were greatly missed."

"I will."

To keep him engaged in conversation, Rhaegar uses the one subject which he was curious about. "I have not been able to speak to Prince Oberyn today, yet, I am grateful that he was willing to hold Jon this morning. I believed the nurse was to hold him."

Rhaegar was starting to think that voicing the sentiment had been a terrible choice as Doran considered him for some time before speaking in a low voice. "While you and my sister were inside the Sept, the nurse had looked rather unwell and it would have been cruel to make her stand out into the sun. It was nothing; even if he would not have had to hold the child for a very long time and as charming as it would have been to have Prince Viserys hold the child; he is far too young to be entrusted with something that requires the utmost care…" The prince trailed off and laughed. Rhaegar looked up to see Viserys clumsily dancing some Dornish dance with Elia. Soon after, Ashara drags Renly Baratheon along to teach him the same dance with similar results.

His point having been proven most satisfactorily, Doran continued speaking, "Oberyn had not known his daughters until they had seen a few name days and he should learn to handle young children. At any rate, Ned Stark and Jon Arryn seemed appreciative of the gesture." Rhaegar decided it would be best if he let the matter drop and Doran lets him. Soon he makes his excuses and goes to where Elia is still dancing with his brother.

"Viserys, the hour grows quite late. It is well past time for you to go to bed." His brother pouts and turns to Elia who smiles warmly at him and puts an arm around Viserys' shoulders. "Now, now, I know you wish to stay, but, Rhaenys and the rest were sent to sleep some time ago, and, it is well past the time you should be in bed. Your brother is king. We would not want to disobey, today of all days, would we?"

Rhaegar considers himself lucky when the boy, still pouting, nods, and a servant coaxes him away, while Rhaegar takes his wife into his arms to dance again. "Have you enjoyed tonight? I know you worked hard to prepare for today."

She smiles again, "Yes, everything is going wonderfully. Don't you agree? Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes. Everything has gone quite well. I am glad-" Ser Oswell decided "since he did not have the opportunity before, it would be the perfect time to dance with the queen". Elia smiles in the knight's direction and Rhaegar lets her go and steps back.

Shortly after that, he is intercepted by Ashara who has a curious smile on her face and he is thankful the song currently being played is a brief one.

"Quite a gathering tonight, Your Grace."

"Yes, quite. It has gone rather well. I noticed Lord Baratheon only danced with you tonight."

Her smile is full of humor before she replies, "My future lord husband does not care for much dancing, but, he does it rather well".

"I am pleased to hear it. It is good that you get on well."

"He is slightly gruff, but, he is a good man and kind in his own way".

"That is good." Soon enough the song mercifully ends. He observes Stannis and Renly Baratheon walking towards them. They part ways and Rhaegar watches as the Baratheons escort Ashara out of the hall, some others following in their wake.

* * *

Soon after, though the feast was considered to be a great success, as many of the lords and other men who attended tonight were to participate in the tourney the next day, the festivities come to a close. Rhaegar and Elia stayed, along side Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan, to supervise those servants who had not worked during the feast clean up and to make sure that all would be ready for the tourney and the smaller feast the next day.

Once the preparations for the next day are solidified, even though the hour is late, Rhaegar walks Elia to the nursery to check on the children with Kingsguard following at a small distance. Once they see to the children, they begin walking to her chambers.

When they reach her door, she smiles once at him once again. She says, "Tonight was wonderful." He does not say anything just yet, he kisses her on the mouth and he steels himself, "May I stay with you tonight?" This time she kisses him.


	7. Chapter 7

Rhaegar looked about at the scene before him. It was a perfect day for a tourney. The air was crisp, but, the atmosphere was not too chilly; almost a perfect spring day. The arena was packed; the audience eagerly anticipating the start of the tilts.

Rhaegar flushed and took an uncharacteristically large gulp of wine. Tourney's. If it was not for the fact that most everyone enjoyed them, and they were expected by those who were high-born and expected other high-born individuals to host them, Rhaegar would have done himself a favor and banned them entirely. Of course, the tongues of other nobles would wag. Some nobles, he was certain, would find much amusement in that, but, he could not give them more reason to point to his shortcomings and failings, even if none of them were brave enough to do it in front of him. Now that war was over, many simply wanted to return to the way it was. Of course, the general public who happened to be fortunate enough to have a chance to sit in the audience would clamor for them saying that it would be unfair to rob them of their infrequent enjoyments and he could not deny them their entertainments now that the end of the war gave them license to enjoy themselves.

He laughs to himself because it is entirely his doing and now he must live with it. He is king and he could provide peace, but, the kingdom would not have required peace from him if he had not done anything to disturb the already tense peace which his father used to threaten. Now, because of that he can not do this simple thing, without consequences. His father learned that when war was declared and when he died, and Rheagar knew all too well how close he got to having consequences heaped upon him because of his actions, as far outside the norm they were, even if they were done with the best of intentions.

He knew he was not particularly eager to be here and he was not the only one. Elia, who sat to his left, sat silently beside him with her back completely straight and rigid with her hands folded tightly in her lap. The smile on her face was serene, but, he knew well enough it was a mask, though a well constructed one.

Elia's brothers & her future good-sister, Lady Cersei Lannister, sat on her other side and to their left side sat Lord Stannis, who sat with Lord Renly and Ashara. Viserys, however, was perched in the seat to Rhaegar's right. At least his brother was excited. In between Viserys and the Starks sat the new Hand and his lady wife. It was no surprise even to those ignorant of most matters that Lord Stannis and Lord Ned were particularly stone-faced.

They always had reputations of being the most serious of men, particularly when they were in public. Of course, most knew better. Rhaegar knew they would rather be anywhere else. This he was certain of because he knew he wished they would be elsewhere as well. Their being here only reminded him of what he took from them even if he was not solely responsible for what, or rather, who they lost. They also reminded him of how similar to his father he turned out to be; of what he is capable of. He was certain those two lords would be relieved to leave King's Landing just as much as he was to see them leave.

Because of their history he would never be comfortable in the presence of them, and he doubted the other men would ever be comfortable with him. Because of that he had not spent too much time with them since they had been in King's Landing. It is not often when one is in the presence of the brother of the woman a man took for his own, nor is it common to be in the presence of the man who kills one's brother. It is not an experience he is sure none of them believe should be repeated frequently. Still, before they left for their homes he would still have to speak to them but he did not quite know how.

Remembering Lyanna and Robert, Rhaegar imagines it might be easier for him to talk to Stannis Baratheon, though, admittedly, not by much. Any man who would agree to wed Ashara and allow his brother to spend time with his younger brother would be willing to listen to him, to a certain point. Of course he had no illusions that the man liked him, but, Rhaegar doubted the man liked anyone overmuch. Rhaegar heard from Arthur the man had not spoken much about him, but, he supposed, no one would tell a knight of the Kingsguard much about the feelings about the King, future good-brother or not.

Ned Stark would be infinitely more difficult. For one, he did not know the man at all. Then, while the deaths of Rickard and Brandon Stark were not of his doing, by not being present when those horrific deaths occurred, by not curbing his father when he had been able, Rhaegar was responsible and he did hold himself responsible. Of course, he suffered no delusion that Stark's hatred of him had not compounded because Lyanna was gone as well and she left behind a son who was not fathered by the man who had been his friend, but that Jon was the son of someone who took her from her family. He doubted Ned Stark would care if Lyanna not wanting the life her father and brothers wanted her to have with Robert Baratheon emboldened, made her willing to go away with him.

He can not give them back their family, and he would not offer platitudes. Not only was he was never good with them, but, rather, there would be no purpose, because platitudes would mean nothing in the face of what he took and what they lost. Yet, he will offer apologies and explanations. His apologies might not mean much for either men and as hollow as the explanations he has now seem, even to his own ears, he has to give something. He owes the both of them that, at least.

Thinking back on their shared history he supposed he had been fortunate in some respects, while he knew for certain all of them would have wanted to, no one had tried to strike him. Such a thought was rather a hollow comfort. Oberyn, of course, had flatly stated he had been sorely tempted, and it was only thought of his siblings wishes that he had not. Rhaegar supposed it was a small mercy that he would not have to call neither Ned Stark nor Stannis Baratheon good-brother and as little as he knew of Ned Stark, he was certain the feeling was mutual. Oberyn, though, Rhaegar thought bitterly, he would never be free from, especially now that he was to be wed to the Lannister girl and anything untoward Oberyn does, Rhaegar was sure the Lord of Casterly Rock would pester him about. The Seven granted him a small favor in that though they were in close proximity, none of the other men were seated next to one another or him during this tourney.

And to think, just this morning, he had woken, alone, but, jubilant. He had thought between with the success of the feast last night and what happened after with Elia, it seemed a good omen. Perhaps it was a sign that he should stop looking towards omens. Thinking back to the tourney that started it all, looking for omens never served him well. Looking to his left, towards his wife and then to his right, at his brother, and to the cheering public in front of him as two men finished a joust, he knew it almost cost everything.

* * *

Rhaegar, intent on his thoughts and sipping his wine, had not been paying attention to the events of the tourney and had ignored the conversations which flowed about him. That remained so until he heard a voice from his right.

"Whose favor is Ser Jaime wearing? Does he usually not wear yours, Lady Cersei?" Lady Lysa asked; her tone just this side of sour. To be sure, he saw Ser Jaime on his horse waiting to for the signal to start the joust against a knight under the service of a Royce, if he was not mistaken.

Now, Rhaegar's reverie was truly broken. Ordinarily he would not be interested in the answer, always having thought such things were rather trivial, but, he wondered if Elia had given the knight her favor since Rhaegar was not participating in the tourney and the pair's friendship solidified after Lord Tywin accepted Oberyn's proposal on Lady Cersei's behalf. Elia had left her chambers before Rhaegar woke this morning, and he had not seen her since just before everyone left to go to tourney grounds. As such he did not have the chance to speak to her this morning about anything much less a possibility he had not entertained, though perhaps he should have.

He heard the sound of Lady Cersei laugh and an inelegant snort near where she had been sitting. Rhaegar could have sworn it was Oberyn, but rather than looking at that he kept his eyes turned on Elia, whose lips twitched for some reason. "My brother, I believe, is wearing our aunt, Lady Genna's." Rhaegar relaxed the hold on his goblet once he heard unexpected answer. It was rather curious that Ser Jaime would ride with an aunt's favor, though he supposed he never paid attention to whose favors the young knight used to ride in tourneys with. Lady Lysa apparently had not been expecting it either, but, he could not fathom as to why Lady Lysa would concern herself with such a thing.

While it would be worth some curiosity, he could not help but marvel at the odd tone Lady Lysa's voice had. Thinking on it he vaguely recalled his mother said something about Ser Jaime having visited Riverrun some years ago, but, obviously nothing came of it. He wondered at concern the lady had now, given that she was married to a high-lord and she would have the chance to be the mother of one in the future.

Now that the girl had noticed the other curious glances, Lady Cersei shrugged and continued, motioning where that same uncle had been sitting with the rest of the Lannisters, "Uncle Emmon rarely participates in tilts and usually my brother rides with mine-"

With barely concealed humor in his voice, Oberyn spoke, holding up a ribbon, "My future good-brother was slightly too late." The ladies within hearing distance tittered and nodded. Obviously they thought the idea was an appropriate one. Oberyn continued, "Oh, I did make another suggestion, in the spirit of fairness…" The man and his betrothed shared an amused glance as he kissed her hand and he laughed once more, "I told him since I took his sister's, he should take one from mine, although his lady aunt's proved to be just as lucky." As he was speaking, Ser Jaime felled his opponent.

As Oberyn said the last and stood to take his leave to the ground to await his turn, Doran snorted while Lady Cersei, Elia & Ashara laughed. Obviously Lady Cersei had come to understand Oberyn rather well. Either that or she had not particularly cared for Lady Lysa's curiosity. He wondered idly what Lord Tywin would say to the changes Rhaegar was certain associating with Oberyn would bring to his daughter.

For his part, Lord Stannis face shifted when he raised a brow, but, the man said nothing when Ashara shook her head as if in fond remembrance. Everyone else had incredulous expressions on their faces, clearly demonstrating that, while they thought it was odd, they supposed it must be strictly Dornish humor or that it was just the way of the Dornish prince to make such comments, and so they thought it best not to comment. Taking another sip of wine, Rhaegar thought rather sourly, that Oberyn would have the sort of humor.

He noticed Lady Cersei and Elia sharing a smile as Rhaegar grew nervous when the Lannister girl continued rather sharply at Lady Lysa's incredulous expression, "My brother did ask Her Grace, but, Her Grace had already promised her favor to another." Lady Lysa and her sister shared a look and their curiosity was clear to all.

Ashara smirked wildly, "If Ser Jaime is not wearing your favor, Your Grace, who is?"

This time it was Viserys who piped up, "Ser Gerold." Rhaegar almost choked on his wine as he shot a look at the man, off in the distance.'Just what was it with the Kingsguard and his wife? If it wasn't one chasing after her skirts it was another. If Elia had been a different sort of woman he would be worried if she was using her amicable relations with his Kingsguard because she planning on deposing him'. He did not know which thought disturbed him more.

He looked between his brother and wife. "Just how do you know that?"

Viserys shrugged his attention mostly still directed to the jousting in front of him, "Ser Gerold asked Elia, um, Her Grace, when we were in the nursery."

A loud cheer rang out as another jouster won his tilt. Still seeing their perplexed expressions, Elia clarified with a smile, "Quite right. It is not everyday I am asked for a tourney favor from the same knight who saved me from an outlaw. Besides, now I can finally say I gave a tourney favor to a white bull. How could I refuse?" Laughter rang out from the Dornish, though, now, Viserys turned to his brother with a confused look on his face.

As Elia turned to Cersei to discuss the other woman's wedding plans, Viserys, spoke softly in his ear, his tone, shy, "Why is that so comical, Rhaegar? What outlaw? And what is so comical about asking someone for a favor? Prince Oberyn and he said he was glad someone thought to ask to wear hers. What does that mean? I heard Ser Oswell say that he had been planning to ask her too. Doesn't everyone ask for and accept favors in a joust?"

Rhaegar frowned at the nature of his brother's questions. He finally understood what Elia had meant about Viserys's inquisitive nature. Thinking of Elia, he noticed shifted so she was sitting forward and because of it a flash of movement caught his eye. Lord Stannis had stood, rather abruptly, and had his brother by the hand and started to escort him out of the venue while Ashara stood up to follow, making their excuses. Elia was taken aback, but, Ashara said something about both lords not being up to finishing the rest of the joust and followed shortly after. Doran caught his eye, and raised an eyebrow and nodded in Viserys' direction causing him to turn around and refocus on his brother. Evidently, this other good-brother did not see the need for him to know what happened with the Baratheons; the thought perhaps the boy suffered an illness. Deciding to concentrate on his brother who had been looking at he decided he would fret over Lord Stannis later.

As far as his brother he thought back to Viserys' first question. Frivolities, such as jousting, was very limited in King's Landing for the past few years and what with the war, jousting etiquette is not something the boy would have had experience with or would have been taught to him. Rhaegar certainly had not taken the time to explain much to him about jousting.

Given the way their family had been, his brother had never been privy to much and the boy had always been isolated from most others, even him. What with the difference in their ages and since before he left, his concentration having been elsewhere; immersed in his duties, his books, his music, and the prophecy, Rhaegar can remember spending only so much time with his brother. True, he used to carry him around and unbend enough to tell a story or two, but, before the war Viserys spent the majority of his time with their mother and Elia, a nurse or some other servant; perhaps a knight or two of the Kingsguard. His mother taught him what she could and from what he recalled when his father bothered to remember he, indeed, had a second son their father spent most of his time regaling Viserys about the family history and stories about the might of dragons, but, even that had been rare considering most had tried to keep Viserys' from their father's increasing madness.

When he returned the boy had already started lessons with the Maester and Ser Jaime, and then Oberyn arrived. He was fairly certain Oberyn agreed to teach Viserys how to use the spear out of love for Elia and spite for him. Otherwise, Viserys spent the majority of his time in the nursery with the other children and Elia, Ashara, & Ser Darry keeping close watch. What with his overseeing the rebuilding efforts and the coronation & related preparations, outside of meals or when someone brought Viserys to him for an occasional lecture, Rhaegar barely saw his brother; not even to supervise Viserys' lessons with Oberyn.

It is truly wondrous and disheartening how little time he spent with those he should have when he had the opportunity and how much he missed because of it.

Rhaegar flushed slightly. He examined his brother, who looked back at him with a completely guileless, but, almost nervous expression, as if he was regretting bothering Rhaegar with his questions.

Rhaegar felt very tired in that moment. There would be a time when answers would be demanded, from his brother, and the other children for that matter, but, no tale he could tell now was suitable for a child of Viserys' age.

It was no secret to any that Viserys had come to idolize the Dornish prince and apparently the man's candor extended to his sister's good-brother. Still, nothing had softened Oberyn towards him, not even a betrothal. Now, it seemed that even his Kingsguard were acting just as carefully considerate as everyone else when it came to their actions. He could hardly explain Oberyn's vitriol towards him without explaining everything else.

He sighed silently and took yet another long gulp of wine to give himself some time. It helped that Viserys was distracted by Ser Arthur failing to win his joust.

In the intervening time he considered his Kingsguard. This particular pair of knights had been a part of his father's Kingsguard. They were also ones who had not said much about their personal feelings; not to him, as it was. Intuitively he knew Ser Gerold nor Ser Oswell had not liked being at the Tower of Joy, but, they had been steadfast in their vows then, as they had when they had been under their father's service. Their loyalty and their sense of duty never wavered, even as tested as it had been when his father had been alive.

Of course, he knew full well the story of how Ser Gerold received that wound in his hand, but even that was some time ago. It was curious that Ser Oswell had also considered asking Elia for a favor as well, but, Rhaegar did remember that Ser Oswell had danced with Elia at the feast. It was not as though the Kingsguard were particularly fast friends with his wife, though he was sure they liked her well enough and it was logical for them to ask her for her favor.

Still, Rhaegar cringed internally when he remembered Ser Oswell's brother and good-sister had been the ones to host the Tourney at Harrenhall, but Lord and Lady Whent had not come to the festivities today. Certainly that could not be relevant. Even if it was, his mother made sure that Viserys would not have been told about what transpired towards Harrenhal and Rhaegar had come to learn enough about the situation of the Keep to understand that efforts were made to ensure that Viserys had remained sheltered whenever possible. There would be time for Viserys to learn about that later. Still he could not completely speak to their motives to anyone, much less a boy who had seen six name days.

As to the rest of it, now that he thought of Viserys' questions about tourney favors, it occurred to him, Lady Lysa had not offered favors to anyone even though Jon Arryn was not participating in the tourney and Ser Arthur rode with Ashara's. Ser Barristan, took a favor from the wife of a cousin. The other lords and knights likewise stuck to asking favors of their wives, betrotheds, and family. He would be foolish to think it had to do with anyone but him.

Seeing his brothers rising confusion he gave an answer he settled on. "It is nothing, Viserys. Some time ago there was an outlaw who bothered Elia and Ser Gerold dealt with him and you know that many call Ser Gerold is called the White Bull. It is quite fitting for Ser Gerold to ask Elia. Queens or other married ladies usually do not give their favors to just anyone, even their lord husbands do not participate. The Kingsguard can not ask wives or betrotheds, as they have none, and Ser Gerold has no sister. Many women would be honored if a man so well respected like the Lord Commander asked for their favor to wear in a tourney."

Viserys accepted his explanation asked another question. "Why do people bother with tourney and their favors so much?"

This time, his childish voice was loud enough that it carried. Jon Arryn gave a response after a sidelong look to his wife who had been engrossed in a conversation with her sister. "Giving a favor and receiving one is quite the honor in its own way. Not every lady is asked, and on occasion some are refused when asked. You will understand when you are older and you ask a lady to wear yours, especially the first time. It can be rather wearing for the nerves."

Viserys looked at him as if the Hand said something outlandish. "When I ride in my first tourney, I do not have to ask a lady, Rhaenys never says 'no' when I ask her to play so she won't refuse me a favor, either".

Rhaegar laughed for the first time in days. Jon Arryn patted Viserys's shoulder as if listening to childish prattle was something he enjoyed. The two men then turned the conversation about the council meeting to be held within the next few days. By this time, there was announcement of the last tilt: Ser Barristan vs. Oberyn. The two men looked fierce upon their steeds. Once the signal was given they raced to one another. Soon, Oberyn's lance hit its target: Ser Barristan's breast-plate. Oberyn hit landed so fiercely that splinters flew every which way while the man fell to the ground, hard. Elia, and a few other ladies, including Cersei Lannister, took sharp breaths at that. Viserys looked starry eyed in his adulation of the Red Viper. Oberyn got off his horse and made his way to where the knight fell while some others also made their way to the grounds to check on the fallen knight. Ser Barristan had not been rendered unconscious but, still had to be helped up so that he could be taken to one of the tents to check for any further injuries.

Oberyn, then, walked back to his horse, climbed into the saddle and guides his horse to where the attendant holding "crown" of roses had been standing. Oberyn, held it in his hands for a few seconds before raising his arm holding it for all to see; loud cheering followed. He, then, made his way to where Rhaegar had been sitting. The man, atop his horse, stood in front of him for what Rhaegar seemed to be an eternity before he nodded and something of a smile appeared on his face. If one did not look too closely, or did not know the man, would have thought it to be a smile for certain, but, Rhaegar knew full well, it was a challenging smirk. Oberyn turned his attention to his sister. Oberyn's smirk became more pronounced and for a moment Rhaegar began to suspect that he was going to give Elia the crown, both as an honor to her and a jab at him, yet, again he merely nodded and truly smiled in her direction before making his way to where his betrothed had been sitting. Rhaegar tried to, discretely, let out the breath which he had been holding.

Soon enough Oberyn put the crown of roses on top of her fair head, and they shared a kiss, the length of which, in Rhaegar's opinion, went on a bit too long than appropriate, even for betrotheds. No one else save for the scandalized Tully women seemed to mind. It was true that Viserys looked vaguely disgusted, but, it was likely more horror related seeing kissing at his age more than anything. Twyin Lannister, as severe looking as ever, simply shared a look with his brother, Lord Kevan & sister, Lady Genna. One could easily read their thoughts: Martells. From his right he heard his Hand snort. Of course, Doran said nothing, but, shook his head and looked fondly at his brother and future good-sister's antics. Elia politely hid a smile behind her hand. Ser Jaime, however, had looked incredulous and then relieved, but, even that quickly evaporated and now he looked fit to burst from laughter.

* * *

Oberyn decided since his brother spoke to him about his and Lady Cersei's courtship he and his new betrothed needed to appear in public more often. So, the next day he was taking Lady Cersei on a walk through of King's Landing. Oh, they surely made a show of being happily betrothed when he won the tourney; not even his future good-father Lord Tywin Lannister had said anything to him or her for that matter, afterward. Still, his brother had said giving her a crown of flowers was just not enough of a courtship and he would have to do better than that.

He knew Doran had despaired of his ever being married or settling down. Of course his brother had married the woman he loved; this was something quite different. Even if he had no intention of informing Doran about Cersei & Jaime Lannister, just yet, he still had every intention of being as true of a husband as he could, even if they bedded or loved others. If one could look past his reputation for hotheadedness and violence they only had to look at his bastards to know that no single, ordinary, meek woman would do as a wife for him. It really was his good fortune that Cersei Lannister still needed a husband. She was hardly meek or ordinary. She was not a typical Southron lady; for that he was thankful. At least she would not bore him.

And so here he was preparing to ask her to go on a walk in the city tomorrow, though with her brother as a chaperone. He found the situation very much amusing. When Elia wrote to him she said the girl was still beautiful and he was no fool that he would deny himself beauty when it came his way. She had also hinted that Sunspear and Dorne in general would serve Cersei Lannister well. His sister had been right. It helped that she was fiercely independent and intelligent. She had taken his behavior in stride, and it was a rather big relief that she understood his humor. Of course his sister knew about the girl's preferences and still recommended the match, or perhaps that was why she did.

When Ser Jaime told him about them he had been surprised, which admittedly was a rare occurrence; then he had been understanding, and then amused. Ser Jaime had told him that he did love his sister but very few would understand it. The sentiment was true and Oberyn was hardly above reproach. Obara's mother had been a whore; Nymeria's mother was, like Mellario, a noble woman from the Free Cities, though from Volantis not Norvos; Tyene's mother was a Septa; and Sarella's, a trader. He could hardly deride others for their lusts when there was no reason to bar them from that lust. This though was more than mere lust. It really was a pity that such things were not accepted under most circumstances, unless they had been with the name Targaryen.

His face settled into a grimace. That name and the men attached to it caused nothing but trouble. Of course, wearing Elia's favors had not stopped that fool Rhaegar from crowning that Stark chit Queen of Love and Beauty, and shaming his sister, but, he doubted anyone would take such liberties now, even him. Still that fool of a good brother and that girl did enough damage. It was a stroke of fortune Rhaegar's boy was born before his good-brother married the girl and she died before she could pose a proper threat. Of course the boy had been brought here, but, Elia and Doran would have his head if something were to happen to the boy, not that he would do anything to harm him as he had wanted to the boys father. Even he had his limits and he had carried the boy during the coronation, after all.

At least Elia's and her children's legacies are secure. He had wanted to act, but, Elia and Doran were emphatic there was nothing to do about it now and he did see the reason of it. If it would not mean more strife for his sister and her children, Rhaegar Targaryen would have been just as dead as that beast that used to masquerade as his father. After Rhaegar Targaryen, just about anyone would be an improvement as a good-brother and he was hardly the jealous type. At least Ser Jaime had a sense of humor and he cared about his family at least.

He knew full well he caused Rhaegar great distress just by his mere presence. He had known it since he agreed to teach Prince Viserys who had become quite a diligent student of his and who had been very interested in following him around asking questions of what Dorne was like. Doran had also likewise mentioned his conversation with Rhaegar and relayed his shock the night before, at the feast because of his affable actions.

Of course today was more than it's worth in golden dragons. He saw Rhaegar as he approached the area of the stands where they had been sitting after retrieving the "crown" and when he kissed the girl.

Between allowing him to become more familiar with his betrothed, allowing for his betrothed some time with her brother, being able to spend time with his sister and her children, and being able to needle his good-brother it most definitely worked in his favor to remain in King's Landing for quite some time longer.

* * *

Later that night, after the evening meal, the royal couple found themselves in the nursery with the children, which allowed the nurse to have some time to herself. Of course, the youngest three children were fast asleep and Rhaenys was in the process of drifting off. Viserys, though, was wide awake, chattering away about the tourney and commenting on what he thought of each and every participant, the horses, which ones he liked best, and so on. Essentially, the pair of adults listened while the young boy spent his energy talking. If they regretted allowing him extra pudding at the meal, they made no mention of it. Of course, this meant that he would ask more questions whenever he ran out of items to comment on. Eventually the nurse returned and the trio moved to Viserys' chambers as the boy's eyes started to droop.

Once they settled him in they stood up to leave. Yet, before they could do so Viserys stopped them. While they felt that it was unusual they waited for the generally loquacious child to speak.

Eventually, he spoke up. "Did you know Robert Baratheon well?" Rhaegar and Elia looked at one another rather startled and so they sat back down again.

Rhaegar answered evasively, "Why? Did someone say something?"

The young boy looked down before looking back up to answer, "You know how Renly and I are friends now?"

Rhaegar nodded, prompting Viserys to continue. "Today, after the tourney, Lord Stannis would only let me have a short visit with Renly and he said Lord Stannis was mad at him for asking about Robert and that Lord Stannis got really worried when Renly mentioned that their brother would have liked to be at a tourney like we had today. Renly said that Lord Stannis told Renly to not mention their other brother when they stay in King's Landing at all. Renly even said Lord Stannis never speaks to him about their parents as well. Why is that?"

Rhaegar looked at Elia; she looked steadily back, saying nothing. Apparently questions he had been regretting required answers from him. And he had believed speaking to Stannis Baratheon would make for a relatively palatable experience.

Rhaegar swallowed heavily. He could hardly tell Viserys too much. Looking at Elia he noticed her face was rather expressionless, except, she was curious as to what he might say. Certainly she would allow for certain allowances given Viserys' age. Even that was very little consolation.

Rhaegar took a deep breath. "I can not tell you every thing, but, I can tell you Robert Baratheon died in the war. I am sure Lord Stannis loved his brother very much and does not want to be reminded of things his brother used to enjoy. It can be rather painful."

Elia raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Viserys continued, "But why would he tell Renly not to speak about him?"

"First, let me tell you that I do not want you pestering Renly or Lord Stannis, or anyone about this. Do we have an agreement?" The boy acquiesced easily though he was shocked at his brother's rather sharp tone.

Elia looked at Rhaegar pointedly and he modified his tone so that he spoke more softly. "Do you remember how I went to war as well?" The boy nodded.

"Lord Robert was on the opposing side and because he was his brother, Lord Stannis joined him. Jon's uncle, Lord Stark, was also Lord Robert's closest friend. The Hand, Lord Arryn fostered Lord Robert with him at the Eyrie. The war was very ugly business and many would prefer to not focus on it. I can not speak much for Lord Stannis, but, he probably fears that some would think badly of them and does not wish to stir up already painful issues for anyone."

"But, why would he forbid Renly from speaking about him and their parents. If they were Lord Stannis's family, they were Renly's too."

"That is true, however, Lord Stannis knew them longer. Sometimes people are very private, and you know Lord Stannis is one of them, and often some do not like speaking about those who have died and no matter how long ago it was and Robert Baratheon, only died some months ago. I can imagine the pain in particularly is still fresh for him."

That did not satisfy the child. "But, Renly says it is not fair because he does not remember his parents at all and now so is there brother, but Lord Stannis, does have memories of them."

Rhaegar sighed as he begged the Seven for patience. "You know our family history? Then you know that Lord Stannis' grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen?"

Elia's expression was incredulous. Her thoughts clear. Family? Of all the explanations to use about Targaryens and Baratheons, now their kinship means something?

Rhaegar decided to keep his attention focused on his brother.

"Yes, Maester Pycelle informed me."

"Good, then did you know our father, because they were family, asked an errand of Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana and then they died soon after in an accident?"

The boy nodded, but, still did not comprehending what his brother was hinting at. "Lord Stannis and Lord Robert saw it happen and then Lord Robert was fostered with Lord Jon Arryn, but, Lord Stannis had to stay with Lord Renly and they remained apart until the war. It is very hard to be separated from family for so long."

"But, even so why would Lord Stannis still not like talking about family?"

Elia spoke up, perhaps to distract herself from other thoughts, and Rhaegar was surprised. Viserys turned towards her and she pulled the boy to her side. "You have met my brothers, Princes Doran and Oberyn, yes?" Obviously it was not much of a question, but, the boy nodded, regardless.

"You have been studying the history of Dorne. Well, then you know Doran is much older than Oberyn and I?" Those were definitely not questions as they all knew the truth of all of that. Still, the boy nodded, 'yes', but said nothing, waiting to hear more.

"As a child, Oberyn and I used to play in the Water Gardens, but, Doran was much too old to play with us, just as Lord Stannis is much too old to play with your friend Renly. You understand?"

"Yes."

"In your studies, did you come across knowledge of my other brothers Mors and Olyvar?" Viserys looked confused and Rhaegar was rather alarmed, trying to figure out why Elia would mention her brothers who died as children, when she never had before.

"No, well, both of them were younger than Doran but much older than I, but I never met them as they died very young. It is not the same thing as your friend, but, our lady-mother and lord-father, nor Doran for that matter, spoke much about my brothers either and they did not like it when Oberyn and I asked about them. Sometimes it just too painful when those who did know are asked about family they knew and they lost. Tell me, you remember your lady-mother and your lord-father and you miss them terribly, yes?"

Viserys nodded.

"Then when Aegon, Daenerys, or Jon grow, and they, or anyone, may ask you or even Rhaenys about them, how do you expect to feel if they do?

"I think it would feel bad."

"Quite. It is unfair, but, there it is. Sometimes it's harder for those who have spent many years with them to speak of them or to hear about them, especially when someone talks about things they used to like."

Rhaegar rose and spoke again. "I think, if your friend asks again, tell him, that you think Lord Stannis misses them as well and will speak to him about their family in his own time. It is not, perhaps, what he would want to hear, but, that is the only answer I can give you. For now, the hour grows late. If you wish, we can speak more of things later. Please, keep most of what we have discussed to yourself. No one is to know what we have told you today."

Elia kissed Viserys's brow and both wished the boy "have a peaceful sleep' and closed the door behind them.

When they reached Elia's chambers they both sat together, drinking wine. Elia looked towards Rhaegar and said, "I suppose he would have asked some of these questions eventually."

Rhaegar replied, "Thank you for not saying too much about Robert and not saying much to contradict what I said. I…"

Elia laughed softly, "Nothing you said was strictly a lie, and Viserys is much too young for much of the war related talk. I think for now his curiosity is sated. I think his tiredness also contributed to that. Still, I suspect he will have more difficult questions in the future. I hope we are well prepared for that."

"While we are discussing the topic I had been intending on having a private audience with Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon individually."

"You wish to tell them..."

"I think I ought to speak to them, perhaps to explain myself. I feel that I owe them that."

"I see. I suppose it could not do any harm. If you wish, I might speak to Ashara, perhaps she can convince Lord Stannis change his mind about speaking to his brother about certain things..."

"If you desire to, I have no objection."

Nothing more was said for some time, but, eventually Elia spoke again. "Tell me, what forced you to acknowledge your kinship with Robert? Eventually, Viserys would make the connections, but, when it comes to light that the war effectively ended when you defeated and killed Robert in battle, what happens then? To be sure, for me, Robert having been kin of any degree is that which is least troubling. Still, Viserys and the rest are young. That will only serve confuse him and the other children, when the time comes to tell them all of it."

Rhaegar tried to look for the proper words though he struggled. Eventually, he settled on, "I am aware. As far as the family relationship is concerned, it can not be denied. Still, kinship had very little to do with what I had done. It is too late for any amends I can make to Robert, and even Lyanna. I can only try to make amends to you and do right by Jon. As for the rest of it, I will try to explain what I can though I know that it will not undo what I have done, or have not done, no matter how much I wish it now. All of this was of my own doing and I bear the responsibility for that. "

She considers him for a moment. "You have changed. Before, you would not have thought to even try. I remember, before we married, I was told you were a good and kind man. For the first time in a long while I am starting to see that in you again."

His only response was to rise and pull her close to him so she is flush against him. Nothing more was said that night.


	8. Chapter 8

Jon Arryn arrived in the room designated for the council meeting earlier than the meeting was to take place although he himself was not the first to arrive and he took some time to observe those men who were inside. King Rhaegar had already arrived and was seated at the head of the table speaking to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. To Jon's surprise, Prince Viserys was seated in one corner speaking with Maester Pycelle. Jon had not expected this nor did he quite know why the younger prince was there, but, he supposed he could ask the king after the meeting concluded.

Jon turned his attention to notice that the king was dressed in dark colored clothing and had a very serious expression on his face. Well, Jon thought, the king mostly always was serious. Jon knew that was not always the case, but, still, Jon did not know what to think of him. Oh, Jon knew the man's reputation and better qualities well enough, but, he was also aware of the king's actions which inadvertently caused him and his, harm. Jon wished he knew more about the man, but, he had spent very little time with him that did not involve others as well.

There were always members of the Kingsguard around the king, although Jon saw the sense in that; their purpose was to provide the King with safety. Of course none of them could offer insight into the king. Even those that were a part of Aerys's Kingsguard also served him just as faithfully, as was proper; though he could hardly deny he hated King Aerys, with good reason. Of course, there were very few in King's Landing that had not known his father's cruelty in one way or another. Jon shudders remembering how his nephew, Elbert, died. Of course, Brandon and Rickard Stark died then as well. He had not quite known Brandon, but, he knew Lord Rickard well enough and he certainly was fond of young Ned. Still, he could hardly assign blame one King for the actions of another, even if they were father and son.

And of course, the king had frequently been in the presence of the queen. That had confused him; he could not begin to understand what their relationship was like; not now. He knew is own marriage was hardly ideal to speak of; it was his third, and borne of necessity. And Lysa was so very young. But, this was something entirely different. Before all of this, he thought they were a rather handsome couple, from what he observed. They were of similar ages, had two beautiful and healthy children together, and as far as he could tell, they had a perfectly amiable relationship before the then the former prince did what most would uncharacteristic of him and eloped with another woman and came back from a war with a child.

Queen Elia, in public, seemed to accept it with grace, but, it was no secret that there were differences between a private and public face. Ned had mentioned a conversation with the queen which was less than amiable, but, one could hardly expect anything else from a conversation between a woman whose husband publicly favored another, sired a child outside of their marriage, brought the child home, and gave the child his name, and the man whose sister was party to that humiliation. Even Ned said she had been nothing but courteous from that point forward, but, Ned had not spent much time with the king.

Of course he could glean no information from Lysa, who spent less time with the king than he had, and she commented, as though she had been affronted, by the queen spending much of her time: in the nursery, with her husband, directing various household duties, and making arrangements for entertainments of the denizens of guests who arrived for the coronation festivities, while spending only a little time in the company of high-born women not Lady Ashara Dayne and Lady Cersei Lannister. His good-sister, Catelyn, argued there was nothing particularly offensive about that. The king was hardly the type to spend much time with ladies, and most definitely not now, and the queen had been rather busy with the upcoming weddings of Cersei Lannister and Ashara Dayne. Jon had heard the mix of relief and distaste in Catelyn's voice when she said the second lady's name.

Still, Jon rather agreed with his good-sister: one lady was the queen's future good-sister; the other was the queen's dearest friend and the sister of a member of the Kingsguard. Lady Dayne had no female relations in King's Landing while Lady Joanna had died years prior; if Oberyn Martell was anything to go by, Lady Genna Lannister would be only of some use to Lady Cersei's preparations. Naturally, the primary assistance with those matters would have to come from the queen, who most thought capable of it. Catelyn had said, rather bitterly, "One only needs to look at the coronation festivities. Even if these were to be if not grand weddings, they would be properly done and the queen most definitely favored that which was properly done." Lysa agreed with that. He, of course heard his wife lament many times their wedding as well as Ned and Catelyn's were hastily constructed affairs. Lysa had not appreciated that.

It was said that that king had been appreciative of the queen's efforts. From what Jon saw they looked to be making a proper attempt at reconciliation; he saw the way they were at the coronation, the tourney, and at meal times when they had been present. Of course this was King's Landing and there was no secret which remained secret; it was said, in whispers and titters, many times, that the king seemed had taken his morning meals in queen's apartments, and on many of those mornings the king's own bed had not been slept in.

He mused that none of that said very little about what type of king the man would be. Before he could think more on the subject the parties inside the council rooms noticed him and they stopped conversing with each other to greet him politely. Thus, he ventured inside to sit down. Soon after, Lord Tywin and his good-father, Lord Hoster, joined the group as well. Lord Paxter Redwyne entered shortly after; rather jubilant. His liege-lord and good-brother, for who he was acting as proxy, sent a raven which stated that Lady Tyrell had given birth again; this time to a girl. They named her Margaery. They all, save Prince Viserys, toasted the birth with wine.

Soon after the meeting began in earnest, though the meeting was not to be a particularly lengthy one. There would only be four issues discussed in this meeting.

The first issue to contend with was the succession. After the succession crisis called the Dance of the Dragons the Targaryen's had practiced inheritances so that males inherited before females. There was no question of Prince Aegon's position of heir apparent. A more complex issue was the placement of the king's second son, Prince Jon, in the succession. King Rhaegar admitted the boy had been born without his marrying the mother; however, it was his intention that his younger son be legitimized. There was an uncomfortable moment when Maester had asked if Queen Elia had been made aware of the king's intentions for his son though the king answered in the affirmative. Naturally, no one questioned that further.

The potential succession crisis became less of one, then, said the Master of Laws. Due to Prince Jon's having been base-born, though legitimized, Lord Hoster reasoned, he should be in succession behind the king's brother Prince Viserys, but, before the Princess Rhaenys, and, of course, the Princess Daenerys. The king looked rather uncomfortable, but, had nodded his assent and the other men considering the idea saw the logic in that arrangement, as well.

Once the issue became fully resolved Jon felt relief. Much to his humor, Jon noticed Prince Viserys had been seemingly bored before that discussion set aside the tome he had been reading when his other nephew's place in the succession was being argued. The slightly frowning young prince became fully attentive. When the king had voiced agreed with Lord Hoster's assessment, a faint smile bloomed on his face. Jon would say nothing. He supposed it was a strange thing to be a younger sibling where inheritances were concerned, even as a male. He had never imagined what his sister, Alys, had thought when their brother, Ronnel, was born, and when Elbert was born and Ronnel died. Of course, there was no question of Elbert being his heir, but, if Jon had not been so unlucky with children, he could imagine Elbert, had he remained alive as well, would have been less than enthused about being displaced as heir.

Jon turned his attention to the next topic being discussed: the seventh member of the Kingsguard had to be appointed and some names were bandied about. There was a suggestion of Gerion Lannister, brother to Lord Tywin. Lord Gerion was more of an adventurer, Lord Tywin argued. Most of the council already knew that Lord Tywin had not liked that his son had donned the white cloak and so that was dismissed off-hand. Another possibility was Ser Lyn Corbray of Heart's Home. He was his as-of-yet-childless brother's heir, however, his character was not particularly known to be convivial and he was the one to slay Prince Lewyn. As such, he was dismissed outright by the king. There was, luckily, a younger brother, Ser Lucas Corbray who was also considered and there was hardly anything to discount him.

Following that, there were appointments for the Small Council. There already was a Hand, a Grand Maester in Pycelle; a Master of Laws in Lord Tully; a Master of Ships in Lord Tyrell; and a Master of Coin in Lord Tywin. There was still a vacancy for the Master of Whisperers. One recommendation was Emmon Frey, son of Walder Frey and good-brother to Lord Tywin. That Lord Tywin had no objection to.

The final topic of discussion was the kingdom's finances. As for debts, the crown would not collect debt incurred form lords who did not pay debts to the crown during the war, though debts incurred prior to the declaration of war were to be paid. Each region which incurred debts from war would pay for the resolution of their own debt by collecting from that region's vassals. It was deemed more or less fair for those liege-lords to collect it from their own lands and people. There was also discussion of loan payments to the Iron Bank. To raise revenue for the city, however, there was a discussion of what was taxed and what would not be and where money could be borrowed from.

Soon after the meeting was disbanded, though the king asked him to stay behind. Prince Viserys had asked if he could attend the next meeting. The king agreed provided the boy keep up with his studies, and he too was escorted out by the Maester.

Jon wondered what the king had wanted him to speak about. The king sat down again and motioned for his Hand to join him. Jon did not know what this was about so he asked a question that had been lingering in his mind, but, he could hardly expect to talk to the man of his personal life.

"I had not expected Prince Viserys to be in attendance."

Yes. It is something of a novelty for him. My father…" The king coughed into his hand, his expression rather solemn and regretful, he tried to speak again, "My brother had never been allowed in council meetings and had wished to attend. I saw no reason to deny him and Her Grace had agreed it would be good for him, to see how things are managed."

Jon saw the logic in that. "Ah, yes. I suppose that would make sense. Her Grace argument was rather practical."

"Yes, I am fortunate, she is a practical person." Judging by the tone, Jon thought it best to drop the topic of the queen. Obviously, the king was not talking just about Prince Viserys.

The king spoke again though his tone was hesitant and unsure, "Speaking of practicality I had thought to ask your opinion on something."

"Oh, please do, concerning what?"

There was a flush to the king's cheeks as he took a rather large sip of wine. "I had thought to speak privately to Lord Baratheon and Lord Stark on certain matters. I am afraid I have left it for far too long, but, I do not know either man particularly well." He could again, but, looked away for a moment.

He resumed speaking. "All things considered, I was hoping you could provide certain insight into how I should approach either man..." The man looked positively pained and guilty at the prospect, and Jon felt a rush of emotion at that.

He thought rather viciously for a moment, that the king would not be so pained if he had not acted so rashly to begin with, but, he suppressed that immediately at seeing the man's obvious reluctance. Voicing that would be of no use, no matter how much he wished to say something to the man. It would change nothing. There was no need to acknowledge the purpose behind the king's request and so Jon sat back to think for a moment.

During the course of the war, Jon had become privy to certain details which contributed to this whole mess and because of this knowledge he knew not all of the blame could be laid at the feet of Rhaegar Targaryen. This man had not been the one to kill the elder Starks or those who came with them to King's Landing. Jon knew what he was doing when he raised the banners, though Robert, in his righteous fury, rode the charge. After the war, more was made known to him. What Ned had told him, and this included some of what his remaining brother, Benjen revealed to him, caused Jon to conclude Lyanna Stark had gone willingly with the former prince and so he could hardly accuse the man of accosting her against her will. As much as he grieved for Elbert, he had grieved just as much for Robert.

Yet, none of that would help Ned or Stannis nor would it help to say any of this to the anxious looking king. He knew Ned was of strong character, but, the loss of his family and Robert, his dearest friend, weighed heavily on him. Jon had not known Stannis Baratheon at all; save for what Robert had told him and none of it had been particularly glowing, though from what he had seen the man was loyal and honorable. None of it meant either man would react well to anything King Rhaegar could say and so Jon only had this to offer the king.

"Your Grace. They are men who faced terrible losses. Be honest with them, but, not unkind. Try for courtesy first. Say your piece, let them say theirs, and let fate dictate the rest."

* * *

Stannis Baratheon made his way to the King's solar after the mid-day meal and waited for the knight of the Kingsguard to allow him entry.

It was clear to Jaime that he had come reluctantly, though because he had been summoned by the King, he would be here. That was promising at least.

While the King had not informed any of the Kingsguard the reason why he was meeting with the man, both his father and his Lord Commander revealed the Hand had stayed back after the meeting of the Small Council. Jaime spent enough time in the nursery to where any childish chattering done between Prince Viserys and Lord Renly he was privy to and so it was no surprise to him that the King requested a meeting with Stannis Baratheon. Cersei heard from Oberyn who had thought it worth informing her that the King told the Queen he wished to speak to Lord Stark privately as well. Whatever the reasons for the meeting, they would happen, and that was that.

Still, Ser Gerold had insisted that a member of the Kingsguard be posted outside the solar, without fail. Jaime looked at the man closely and saw that the man had not carried any weapons on his person, although, he was not the type. Though Jaime thought nothing too dangerous would happen as this was a man of sharp words, not brute violence, Jaime though it a very worthy suggestion all the same.

Rhaegar rose when Ser Jaime announced Stannis Baratheon's presence. "Thank you for coming Lord Baratheon. Ser Jaime you may wait outside." Jaime nodded once and closed the door behind him.

Rhaegar motioned to a seat, "Please sit down Lord Baratheon." He then motioned to two carafes. "Would you care for some wine or water, perhaps?"

"You are welcome, Your Grace. No." The young lord sat down. Both men stared at each other, saying nothing. Rhaegar took a long sip of his wine before speaking. He thought it best to start with an inoffensive topic, and his Hand had said to try for politeness, but he struggled for one. This was one of those times he wished he took interest in courtly speech; such frivolity would have served him now. He finally settled on the most innocuous one he could think of.

"I have been meaning to ask, I do beg your indulgence for the lateness of it, your apartments, and they are to your liking?

"Yes, Your Grace"

"Do you require anything?'

"No, Your Grace."

Clearly the man did not care for trappings of comfort as other lords Rhaegar knew would. Rhaegar took another sip to give him some time to think of anything to ask. Rhaegar did not know what to say next. How does one man approach another and bring forth the topic of having been the man who killed their brother. They were never friends to star and as far as he could remember Lord Stannis had been at Court once while he was present. None of that knowledge helped him now and he was not particularly verbose himself, but, he asked for this meeting, he had to act the host. Another safe topic, then.

"Have your wedding preparations been settled?"

"I suppose some preparations are settled and others have not." The man was obviously curious about why the king was asking him questions on guest apartments and weddings, but, would not ask why the king would be interested in any of that, except that Rhaegar supposed the other man felt it was logical for him to say something to the prospective groom about weddings, as his betrothed was a friend to the queen. Still, Rhaegar's expression must have demanded a better explanation as the man continued, "Lady Ashara informed me that they are progressing as they should. I care not to question her on it."

Rhaegar, dismayed at the less than engrossed tone of the man, wanted to try again. He knew he had been trying to prolong the conversation but, the direction of the conversation aroused his own questions. It just figured that Ashara would demonstrate an independent streak and Lord Stannis could not care to be troubled about formalities so long as they efficiently served his purposes. He knew he was the one to suggest the match, but, this, he could not have imagined. He knew he took interest in his wedding and it was rather shocking that others did not, of course, he could hardly take anyone to task about lack of interest in his marriage; he ran off with another woman, with a woman betrothed to this man's brother.

"But certainly, you have thoughts on your own marriage ceremony…"

The man frowned. "Not particularly, Your Grace. I had been informed by my betrothed she will arrange everything and that I am simply required to be present at the Sept on the appointed day and time. I do not care for feasting arrangements afterward and I certainly have no intention of being late."

He knew that the man would do things properly. That still does not give Rhaegar a quaint opening for the conversation he truly wanted to have with the man. "I see."

"Yes." This was a man of direct speech and brevity, in the extreme. Rhaegar would normally appreciate this, but, given the circumstances, and the topic he hoped to speak about, it unnerved him. He had heard men describe Stannis Baratheon before, but, now it occurred to him why some had characterized him as dour and humorless. Most men in his presence were, if not loquacious, at least, were prone to less terseness. Any member of his Kingsguard was easily approachable as was Jon Connington, most of the time. He had come to learn his younger brother never quieted. Even Doran would bend enough to turn a pretty phrase or two. And of course, Rhaegar thought unpleasantly, Oberyn always had something to say.

Still, he invited the man to speak to him, though he could hardly broach the topic of Robert Baratheon so easily. So he spoke of wedding plans he honestly had little interest in. He supposed he counted himself lucky in that his mother took the time to impart to him some knowledge of the running of Storm's End which could be useful.

"The Queen had informed me that you consented to have the wedding at the Great Sept. Is that correct? I suppose the Castellan and the Maester at Storm's End will be disappointed. They have known you since you were young. I should like to think they would enjoy being a part of your wedding festivities. Certainly they would like to see your vows?" Rhaegar knew the Castellan and the Maester had been the ones to raise Stannis Baratheon after Robert was fostered at the Eyrie after the deaths of Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana.

"Ser Harbert and Maester Cressen are of an age to have seen enough weddings. The vows will be the standard ones to the Seven; it was the same for my lord father and lady mother's ceremony and for Lady Dayne's lord father and lady mother. I doubt missing this one will do harm. As it is I think it would be best if my marriage to Lady Dayne is an accomplished fact. Of course Lady Ashara and they wish to have something at Storm's End once we return from the Vale, I suppose that will be acceptable."

Rhaegar concentrating on the fact that the lord was being somewhat sensitive of the subject of Alya being born a bastard almost missed the rest of what Stannis had said. The man looked flushed as though realized he had said something he had not meant to say.

"The Vale? Had Lord Arryn been meaning to return to the Vale? He had not said anything to me about it."

The man in front of him closed his eyes tightly and sighed. "No, the Arryns are not leaving. It is something of a necessity for me to go." Rhaegar frowned. What necessity would drive Stannis Baratheon to the Vale when he had never sojourned there much if at all? Rhaegar, then, remembered Lyanna telling him of Robert siring a bastard at the Vale; a girl child; if he remembered correctly, and for a moment made him think of the other girl he expected to have. Here was a good way to start speaking of Robert, but, Lord Stannis did not appear to be willing to speak of any of it just yet, so he took a rather subtle chance at broaching the subject of Robert Baratheon.

"If you do not mind my asking, what in the Vale is a necessity?"

Stannis Baratheon looked as though he wished to be anywhere else. At Rhaegar's expectant look he answered the question; though not to Rhaegar's satisfaction.

"There is a girl at the Vale; a bastard, but, she is of my blood. She is now orphaned, and the Lady Ashara and I agree that she should be raised with me." The man answered evasively.

Rhaegar fell silent. He looked at the man in front of him. Rhaegar wished he could just finish this, but, the man was being reluctant to even ask why he was here, much less even speaking to him truthfully, except in the vaguest manner. Rhaegar went to take another sip of wine, but, stopped when he observed the reactions of the man sitting in front of him. The man had a perpetual frown on his face, but, when Rhaegar went to take his glass the frown deepened. Rhaegar returned his hand to his lap. The last thing he needed was giving credence to a potential rumor that he was overly fond of his drink.

Rhaegar for lack of anything else to distract himself spoke again. "I do not believe I had the opportunity to ask, have you enjoyed the coronation festivities?"

"Well enough." Noticing the perpetual frown deepening, he would have to do better.

"I remember you left the tourney early." He hoped the observation would encourage the man to talk. It did not.

Rhaegar asked, "Was it not to your liking? I do remember, you, your brother and Lady Ashara left as well. I hope none of you were taken ill?"

The man started to grind his teeth. "No, my brother was being impertinent. As such, it would not have done to reward him by allowing him to partake in frivolities." The man's cold tone was not welcoming.

"Ah." He tried to school his face into what should be a sympathetic expression, which he hoped would invite confidences, even from Stannis Baratheon. As the man ground his teeth even more, Rhaegar knew he failed spectacularly. He soldiered on and just decided to be direct. "In what was he impertinent? Because he had been thinking of your brother and your parents?"

That got a shocked reaction from the man. The man sputtered and looked as though he sorely was tempted to ask for a drink stronger than wine. Rhaegar waved his hand negligently and got the man a goblet of water.

"So that was it?"

The man was reluctant and his face flushed, but, his personal sense of honesty compelled him to answer. "Yes. But, Your Grace, I would hope that you do not concern yourself with the relationship I have with my brother". Rhaegar could not feign to fail to understand what the tone indicated. Stannis Baratheon clearly did not want to have this conversation at all. He could read the expression on the young lord's face: What is it that you desire from me?

"Tell me true, Lord Baratheon, certainly you did not reprimand him because you feared my reaction? I would not begrudge you your feelings and you have no reason to spare mine."

The man took a long sip from his chalice before he answered. "My parents died in an accident and my brother died in war. That men die in such ways are natural; still, death is not a suitable topic for a boy his age, much less in a celebratory setting." Stannis said stiffly, edging around the topic.

"Lord Baratheon, certainly no one would not deny a man's right to speak about his family."

"Given the circumstances, I did not think mention of my family, my brother, in particular, would be welcome, by you nor those around us. It certainly would not do for a traitor's brother to speak about the man the King felled himself." Unsaid was, I certainly had no interest in acknowledging my dead family in front of supporters and kin of the King.

Remembering that conversation with Viserys and Elia and knowing the answer he still asked, "I understand it must be painful, but, certainly, you do not feel the need to deny your brother from speaking about Lord Robert or your parents?"

He put down the chalice with some force and looked Rhaegar in the face and spoke coldly. "My relationship with my remaining family should be no concern of yours, Your Grace."

"I did not mean to imply that I should dictate your relationship-"

Now, Stannis Baratheon looked furious. "If it means so very much for you to know, as I told Ashara, though it seems cruel now, in time, perhaps, I can be honest with him. Now, however, he is a child. The past would only confuse and disturb him. I do not have many memories of my family which are untainted by the way they were taken from me. I have been in mourning for many years and what good memories I have of my family are not separated from the horrific ones. I am a man made bitter by the losses I have suffered and I do not wish that for him or anyone else. What is it that you require of me? Certainly Your Grace does not concern himself with why I do not speak of my family? Here of all places? Is that why I am here in this room with you now? Fear not, Your Grace, I will not describe the circumstances which surrounded my family's deaths without consulting you first if that is your wish".

At the raised voice Ser Jaime entered, but, Rhaegar waved the knight back outside.

"No, that is not my wish. I wish to speak to you about Robert. I understand that it must not be easy to be here with me after you have lost."

"You wish to know my feelings about my losses, Your Grace? Why now? You never have before!"

At Rhaegar's incomprehension, he was positively vibrating with unspent energy. "It truly escaped your notice? My parents died in service of your father, for what he wanted for you, and now my brother died a traitor and I am a living one. I have no desire to relive any of it or distress my family, when it was all for nothing." The last was said so softly.

Alarmed, Rhaegar queried, "For nothing? And what did you mean when you said your parents 'died for what my father wanted for me'?" This was not what he expected at all when he decided to speak to this man.

The younger man shook his head and took a deep breath and multiple sips of water before continuing when he noticed his king would not relent and so he spoke in the most tired voice Rhaegar had ever heard. "My parents died having failed your father. They died failing to secure a bride for you. King Aerys did not acknowledge their deaths overmuch only to say that it was rather disappointing that they were unable to find you a bride before they died. Their sacrifice, their deaths, meant nothing. Then, you married and had children I had thought perhaps my parents had not died for nothing as the goal had been realized, but, not even that stopped you from leaving your wife and children and fleeing with another man's betrothed."

Rhaegar wanted to protest that the Windproud sinking was not his of his doing; that he was not even the one to ask them to go and find him a bride; or that any bride that was chosen would have meant he did anything differently; but, Stannis Baratheon's gaze boring into him as he continued to speak forced him to remain silent.

"Then, I was at Storm's End when it all happened, when the news of the Stark's deaths and the rest was delivered. The most difficult choice I ever had to make was to choose between my duty between my brother and my king. When my brother rose in rebellion he was a traitor. I never thought it would ever be possible or that I would be a traitor one day as well. Do you know what that choice cost me? That my king had killed innocents made the choice easier, but, still, when I sided with my brother I became a traitor. I thought I forsaken my duties for the right reasons. What a fool I was. In the end my brother became a traitor and died for the Starks when the girl had not loved him to start with; she had not even bothered to tell him she did not care enough about him to do her duty or that the prince, who was our albeit distant kin, ignored his duty to his wife, children, and the realm so that he could take my brother's betrothed for his own despite knowing she was not his to take. Then, the girl died as well. Tell me, Your Grace, how or why should I tell anyone, much less the one brother I have left that everyone I, we, cared about died pointlessly for nothing except foolishness?"

Rhaegar was stunned to silence and his indignation deflated. When he finished speaking the new Lord of Storm's End stood up. The man looked flushed and he seemed rather shocked by his own outburst and slightly fearful as well.

Rhaegar had been silent as the words spoken by the younger man washed over him. His thoughts were a jumbled mess; grief, guilt, and shame warred within him. Before Lord Stannis made it to the door Rhaegar called out to him once more and the man turned.

"Lord Stannis, I know this means very little in the face of your grief, but, when I eloped with Lyanna I had not set out to hurt or betray Robert or to start a war though I admit I was selfish, foolish, and callous. As you say I was, am, your kin and I was the realms prince and you all deserved better from me. No amount of apologies I can make will erase what has been done and I do not expect that you forgive me, but, know that I am truly sorry for what I have done to Robert, you, and yours. I am also sorry for what has been done by my father and in our names, but, know that I had not meant to hurt anyone by my actions."

Stannis Baratheon stared at him for almost a full minute before nodding. "Your Grace, if we are being honest, I think that you had not set out to hurt anyone. That is what makes everything most difficult. You were never the type to be deliberately cruel and I suppose that is why I was quick to agree to the peace brokered with you which was broken when we rose up against your father, the former king. However, that does not excuse what you did or what was done. I do suppose I am grateful in that you willingly allow my brother friendship with yours, you have given me a beautiful wife, there is no longer a man burning others for amusement, the war has stopped, and my home is no longer surrounded by those who wish to see me dead, yet I do not know if I can forgive you; however, I can offer you my fealty. I hope you can accept that."

The man left quietly after that, leaving Rhaegar to his thoughts. Rhaegar felt some relief as Stannis Baratheon left his solar though there was no complete relief. He had accomplished what he intended and spoke to the man and apologized. He even received answers to some questions even if some of what Lord Baratheon had said was not quite what he expected. Though he suspected they would never be friends Rhaegar supposed he had admired the man's brutal honesty even if the man was reluctant at first, but, he knew he earned the man's mistrust. Oh, he full well knew he earned it quite thoroughly.

Rhaegar was thankful he could count on the man to be civil, even if only because the friendship between Viserys & his brother and Elia & Ashara, though it had disheartened him that a man so young felt guilt at wanting to aid his brother because of the duty he felt he owed to a madman, because the madman was his king. Of course, the madman wasn't the only one who harmed him, even if it was done indirectly, and nothing he could do now would change that at all. The man's fealty would have to be enough. That was something, at least. It was more than he deserved.

* * *

Rhaegar felt that the meeting with Lord Ned Stark was bound to be different from the one with Lord Stannis Baratheon. For one thing; Rhaegar had Jon in common with Ned Stark, though that was probably the only thing they had in common. Still, this conversation was bound to be difficult in other ways.

Rhaegar did not even have the benefit of his wife being friends with the Lord's lady-wife or a kinship or friendship between families to allow some civility. Then again, those benefits had not provided Robert Baratheon any cushion from Rhaegar. Now that Rhaegar had the time and the inclination to think on it, it rather shamed him that he never even considered Robert at all when he eloped with Lyanna. He could imagine Elia's thoughts if he mentioned that. If you had not considered mine what chance was there of considering Robert's?

The Starks and Targaryens, however, were not family, not even distantly, and the Starks before Rickard, tended to refrain from much Southron interaction, so there had never been a shared loyalty which was broken between them, but, that would not make this conversation any easier than the one Rhaegar had with Lord Stannis. Lord Stannis was a firm believer in duty, even to the point where it was only until his brother asked had he sided against his king. Lord Stark lost his sister, his brother, and then his father, and that is when the trouble escalated to war; that was something quite different. Still, Rhaegar had to see the man before he left for Winterfell.

He knew Elia had spoken to the other lord slightly of Lyanna and him that once, but, never again about them, after that. She said she had not been particularly kind to Lord Stark that first meeting, but, she had not been particularly kind to him when he first arrived either; although he knew she would not be welcoming. Had she been a different woman, he was sure, at the very least, she would have insisted Jon be sent north as soon as she could find someone to take him the second she had set her eyes on him, yet she had not.

He had wondered at what he told Jon was "her practicality", but, could not come to ask her so he asked Ashara one day while he had happened to cross her path.

She laughed. "What would you have her do, Your Grace? Curse that foolish, dead girl, publicly? Continue to rant and rave at you? Be cruel to the child? She is your wife, the mother of your children, and your queen. Tell me, if she continued to do that she would no longer be welcome to remain any of that for very long, now would she?"

He had taken offence to that. He had said Elia was his wife and would have always remained so and Ashara snorted in derison, but said nothing more before leaving.

As it was, Ned Stark had said nothing to him about it, nor had he complained to anyone else. Of course, Ser Darry had informed him, when he visited the nursery alone, that Lord Stark and Elia were polite to one another though it had been very awkward in the first few days since the Starks arrived, but, their relationship thawed immensely after that. He, himself, had never seen Lord Stark in the nursery and they were never alone before this appointment would take place.

Finally a knock interrupted his musing and Ser Oswell announced Ned Stark. Rhaegar saw the knight glance curiously at the younger man before leaving them alone.

"Please Lord Stark, sit." Ned Stark seemed poised to wave away the offer of the drink, but, thought better of it and Rhaegar saw the ornate cup was filled, almost to the top.

Ned Stark spoke, "Your Grace wished to see me?"

"Yes. I do apologize as I have not have seen you privately since you have arrived. It had been my intention to see you sooner, but, I have not had the opportunity before today.'

"It is quite alright, Your Grace."

"Have you enjoyed your stay so far? I do hope your apartments are comfortable?"

"The apartments are quite comfortable, Your Grace." Formality in every sentence and a tense expression did not bode well for this conversation. Rhaegar mentally cataloged the other man did not answer the other question, but, did not remark upon it.

"And your lady wife, she is well? I have not had the chance to speak to her since the coronation feast. I hope she enjoyed her stay thus far."

"She is quite well, Your Grace. She is well at home in King's Landing having spent her youth in the Riverlands, but, she too is anxious to return to Winterfell and our son."

"Ah, yes, of course. Robb is the name, yes?" Robb for Robert. The man nodded, but said nothing. Both men sat silently for a while.

"I see, then, I take it you will be leaving soon?"

"Yes, Your Grace, within a fortnight."

"Oh, so you will not be staying for Lady Ashara and Lord Stannis's wedding?"

"No, Your Grace. My brother, Benjen, though he is capable, we, that is my lady-wife and I, are anxious to return to Winterfell. As it was, we had initially thought to stay until the coronation and since that is done, it is time we begun to prepare to leave.

"I see. How unfortunate. I am sure Jon and Lady Alya will miss your presence, though I will ensure you are regularly updated on Jon's progress and I am sure Lord Baratheon and Lady Ashara will do the same with your niece."

Rhaegar waited before saying more as the man briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I ought to tell you, as you are Jon's uncle you should hear it from me, that Jon has been legitimized as a Targaryen and a prince, though he has been placed in the succession behind my brother Viserys."

The man flinches and remains silent for a long moment, but, eventually whispers, "Legitimized, your Grace? I see. Thank you for informing me." Rhaegar knows he is thinking about Lyanna.

"Yes, it was a necessary formality, though had circumstances been different there would have been no need for that." The man was startled and he looks confusedly him for a moment.

"When we eloped I had thought to marry Lyanna." That confuses the man even more because he asks, though his tone was rather angry, "Certainly you had no plans to put aside-"

Rhaegar is horrified at the thought, "No, no, no, my Lord, you misunderstand my meaning. Though the practice was not common, there have been instances in my family of taking more than one wife, and that had been my intention with Lyanna, but, before that could occur, war had been declared." That did not comfort the younger man.

"Had you known what happened to my father and brothers, Your Grace?"

Rhaegar flushed. "Not until later, until after I left the Tower. Not even the Kingsguard knew then as the King had ordered them to find me and it happened after they left King's Landing. It should not have happened. I deeply regret that I had not been in King's Landing to stop that from occurring. I…" He trailed off, what he should have done will not change a thing.

Ned Stark took a large sip from his glass before asking his next question. "Did my sister know of what happened to our brother and father?"

"She and the Kingsguard who were at the Tower learned of it much later, but, by then she had fallen pregnant, and it was unsafe to travel, even under the best of circumstances."

"I see. How did she take it?" The sound of the man's voice as he asked this was broken, but, he did not look in Rhaegar's direction.

Rhaegar closed his eyes. This was a question he did not know he would have to answer. In a shaky voice, he responded. "Ser Gerold said…He had said she was greatly distressed when she had come to know."

As if to distract himself from those thoughts, Lord Stark asks another question. "You said you intended to marry her, why had you not?"

"We had tried to find a Septon who would marry us, but, the Tower was in such a place that none could be located nearby and none returned the ravens we sent and by then the banners had been raised. I thought there would be time once war was finished."

"You thought you would win", Ned Stark stated flatly. Rhaegar laughs so hollowly that even Ned Stark could not find it in himself to be offended much. "It was the one thing I was right about."

"I think she loved you or at least she did not love Robert. Did you love her?"

Rhaegar ducked his head. That was the crux of the matter. He knew it was expected that he answer the question. He wondered about it often. At Harrenhall he had honored Lyanna, but, then, he had not loved her, though he admired her spirit and her fire. When they were at the Tower, when she said she was with child, he knew had been in love with her. But, when he went back to the Tower after his victory and he can remember he grieved for her, but, even that pain was eclipsed by the disappointment that she had not given birth to the daughter he hoped for; though he knew he loved his son. When he returned to King's Landing Elia asked him if he loved Lyanna and he said he had not, but, she countered that if he had not loved her, he would have never run away with her, but, when he did take Lyanna with him, all he could remember was that he had been infatuated by her and that he needed her. It tears at him, but, he does not know. Unbidden, Stannis Baratheon's words come back to him: All for nothing.

All that of those deaths, the war, and he does not even know if it was truly love, madness, or some of both. Ned Stark stares at him. The man's eyes demand an answer: his brother, his father, his friend, his sister, and those men who fought, bled, and died; was there at least love so they did not die for nothing? No answer Rhaegar gives Ned Stark will give him or the other man peace and the truth is obscured in his head and so he gives the only answer he could. "Yes, I did." Not I do, but, the man does not know his thoughts.

Lord Stark sags in his seat and it seems as though can not help himself as he asks another question, "And the queen?" That is easier; the frenzied need to fulfill the prophecy does not cloud his feelings towards Elia. "Yes."

"I see, well…" The man slowly rises from his seat; the usually stoic young man's eyes are red. "Thank you, Your Grace. I have taken much of your time. I only have a few requests. Please when Jon grows I should hope you allow him to visit Winterfell and I hope that you will let him learn of Lyanna."

Shakily, he responds, "Yes, of course."

Before Ned Stark leaves his presence Rhaegar stops him, his voice hoarse. "Lord Stark. I am truly sorry for Lyanna, Lord Brandon, Lord Rickard; for everything. What I meant to do… I had not meant any of this. I am so, so very sorry. At least, know that Jon will be safe and loved with me. He will want for nothing." He does not say it is the least he could do, but, it is.

As Rhaegar stops talking, Ned Stark nods silently and leaves the room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains disturbing imagery and references to physical & psychological abuse, other incidences of violence, and rape, though none of those items mentioned occurs in the chapter.

Rhaegar stirs as he feels the furs he was lying under shift. He almost drifts back into sleep when he feels shuffling beside him and then hears a whimper of distress. He blinks slowly. He looks towards the window and sees that it still is night. It is still very dark outside, but, the fire in the grate has not banked itself; its flames still merrily dancing along casting the room in shadows. He hears the sound of another whimper. This whimper, accompanied by an audible, yet, clearly distressed, "No", causes him to turn his head sharply to his other side.

Beside him, Elia is shaking; in the low light he sees a faint sheen of wetness on her brow; her face twisted into a grimace of fright. Her breaths come quick and shallow; she cries out, "Your Grace please, no." Confused and worried, Rhaegar tries to rouse her, by calling her name but, he is unable to do so. She cries again, louder, "Not them please…"

He is perplexed by what she is saying, but, he is far more alarmed by what he sees in front of him. He does not even try to decipher what those words could possibly mean. Rhaegar believes he hears faint shuffling outside the door, but, ignores it; most of his attention is focused on his wife. He touches her shoulder, hoping his touch will cause her to become awake. It fails to rouse her; however, she begins whimpering louder. He then tries to awaken her by shaking her lightly. Again, it fails, now she shakes even harder and in the light of the room he sees tears beginning to fall from her eyes. He tries shaking her again. This time her eyes fly open. Her face is twisted in fear; more tears start flowing. She screams and pushes his hand away from her shoulder. He can only watch as she continues to scramble away from him. He hears a door slam open, but, he is frozen sitting as he looks at his wife. Her face is a study in abject dread. He has never seen that expression on her face. Her eyes are unfocused, and wet with tears. She takes quick, but, deep breaths, as if she is drowning and she is shaking heavily.

Much to Rhaegar's shock and confusion, before he can say or do anything, Ser Jaime rushes in front of Elia and sits down in front of her. The knight speaks, "What happened; what did you see?"

Rhaegar hears her brokenly whisper, "He was where. He wanted the children..." The knight takes a breath before glancing behind for a moment before taking in his surroundings quickly returns his attention to Elia's face. He, barks at the knight who entered with him, "Ser, get the Maester; discreetly; no one else. Tell him it is dreams again." Many thoughts swim in Rhaegar's mind. What dreams? Since when does she have dreams? How long has she had dreams such as this? Why is he hearing of them now? Who was "he"? What children? Rhaegar wants to ask these questions, but, before he could the younger knight noticing the other man had not moved, yells, "Now, Ser!"

The ferocity of the words shocks Rhaegar. The sharpness of the knight's voice was incongruous with the gentleness by which one of the knight's hands reaches for Elia's shoulder, holding her in place. The other one grasps her chin so that she focuses only on the knight. Still, never having heard that tone of voice from his younger "brother" Ser Barristan rushes out to obey leaving the three of them alone in the room. But, none of that sates his curiosity as even more questions arise.

What did Ser Jaime know? Has he seen this happen before? What does the Maester know? How long had they known whatever it is that they do know? In a rush of anger another question comes to mind. Why had no one bothered to inform him?

Rhaegar can only watch, transfixed, as the knight croons words of comfort to his wife, "Sshh, now, you are safe. We are safe. He is gone. Breathe Your Grace." Rhaegar is even more unnerved, not knowing what to make of any of this.

Rhaegar can only stand, stiffly watching and thinking, as the other man's words seem to take some effect. Her body is still shaking, though now she shakes less. After a few moments her body begins to relax so that she sags slightly so that the bulk of her weight is pressed against the wall. Rhaegar watches as Ser Jaime brushes her hair back in a comforting gesture. Rhaegar can make out a troubled, but, soft look on the knights face, and an unsure one on his wife's. No one speaks.

Rhaegar moves to go near where they are, but, his footsteps are noisy in the silence and he sees Elia tenses again. He stops moving. He opens his mouth, to offer something, anything, but, before he can, Rhaegar sees one of the knight's hands moves to rest on Elia's neck while her hand comes to grasp the knight's bicep and amidst the worry Rhaegar feels a rush of anger. He has to know why Jaime could comfort her when he could not, but, any words that wish to bubble out die on his lips as the knight speaks again. "It is just us and His Grace, your lord-husband, here in these rooms; not Aerys. He is gone. Dead. He can not hurt anyone now."

The room is drenched in silence at this pronouncement. If Rhaegar cared to notice, perhaps, he would have recalled never hearing the knight speaking in a tone so soft, but, the effect of knight's words felt like as though he had been hit bodily as more thoughts come unbidden and crash about in his head. His father? What had his father done to her, that even now she is disturbed? Certainly he had not so far gone that he had taken a hand to Viserys, Rhaenys, or Aegon, a mere babe?

Elia's breathing starts to slow and her body continues to relax. The knight smiles encouragingly at her and she smiles back, yet, it is the smallest smile Rhaegar had ever seen. She still looks distressed; her eyes darting about. It is as if she does not recognize where she is, or at least is completely uneasy in these rooms. With a jolt, Rhaegar remembers they were in his chambers, which were formerly his father's; not hers.

When they started to share a bed again he always went to her chambers save this night. Even after the rooms were restored she had never shown the inclination to come anywhere near these rooms, save today. Rhaegar cringes recalling the first day he returned and Elia was adamant that Viserys stay away from the rooms, though at the time she used safety as an excuse.

Rhaegar blinks and exhales a breath, shuddering; the first time they do share his rooms she awakes from having terrible dreams featuring his father. He can not fathom what his father could have done to cause this though he can admit he was not blind to his father's faults. Whatever he had done it is strange that she would react the way she had. If it was his father she feared why did she push him away? Why had she responded positively to Ser Jaime?

Before he can think on the possible meaning to any of those questions, Ser Barristan enters with the Maester. At the sound of their entry Jaime helps Elia to stand and she leans slightly against the man and one his arms wraps around her shoulder and he guides her back to the bed. A flare of anger rises in Rhaegar again, but, he stamps it down. Now was not the time to give into baser feelings over this. He will have his answers soon enough.

Ser Barristan is frowning heavily. All of this seems to have distressed and confused him as much as it had Rhaegar, but, he does not speak. The man rarely does. Rhaegar briefly wonders if Ser Barristan asked questions of the Maester or if the Maester knew exactly what Ser Jaime meant by "dreams". Rhaegar eyes mechanically follow Ser Jaime as the man goes to light the solitary candle sitting on top of the table next to Rhaegar's bed. It strikes him as odd, but, there are more important things for him to concentrate on and so he looks towards the Maester who is now standing in front of Elia. The Maester was frowning as well, but, Rhaegar does not know if it is because of his being woken which disturbed the man or that he is disturbed by what occurred. Pycelle looks to Elia, "The same ones?"

Rhaegar frowns. Of course the Maester knows his wife had dreams, but, to what extent does the Maester know of what Elia dreams of? The only certainty Rhaegar has is that not even Pycelle thought to inform him.

Rhaegar's attention returns to Elia as she nods in the affirmative while Pycelle looks troubled, yet, resigned to it. The ease of the way the man walks over to the table with a pitcher of water, pours some into a goblet, removes a stoppered vial from his robes and quickly puts three drops into the goblet, and mixes the concoction assures Rhaegar that the man has enough experience in this particular matter. Rhaegar does not know if he should be put at ease by this or more disturbed. Once the elixir was prepared, the Maester walks over to Elia and hands her the cup for her to drink. Rhaegar notices absently that Ser Jaime is lighting some more candles; each of them set far away from the bed, but, close enough to give off some light.

The Maester speaks again. "Your Grace, the usual dose should be more than enough. It should help you sleep again." She looks dubious, but, acquiesces. Rhaegar notes the usage of the words, "usual dosage". The man nods encouragingly until she finishes the contents. Jaime has returns to Elia's side as she settles into to bed. The concoction seems to take effect shortly and her eyes start to close again, her body gradually relaxing. Seeing that, Maester Pycelle turns to Jaime and both men seem to have a silent conversation with their eyes. Yes, they know. After a few seconds, the Maester looks to Elia again to see that she has indeed fallen asleep.

Apparently satisfied, the Maester then turns to Rhaegar. "There is naught to do now the dream has passed, but, sleep." His expression is apologetic, but, resolute as Rhaegar nods. He does not know what else he can do, if anything. The still confused & silent Ser Barristan, now that the issue seems resolved and for the lack of anything he is able to do, after a few whispered words from his fellow knight that Rhaegar could not quite overhear, offers to walk Pycelle back to his quarters and both men leave silently.

Rhaegar turns to see Jaime pulling the furs about Elia's body in a way that speaks of experience and care, but, it is done so quickly the knight steps back as if this was simply a matter of routine. The knight, even more inexplicably to Rhaegar, moves to the fire and banks it; the flames dying out and the smoke disperses. Then, Rhaegar finally uses his voice, thought it is low, "Ser Jaime…"

He trails off when he notices the knight, now, only has eyes for Elia and thinks the knight may not have heard him. He tries again, slightly louder, but, not too loud so that he might wake Elia. Yet, again, there is no response. After a minute, the other man speaks so softly that Rhaegar could barely hear him. "Perhaps outside would be better, Your Grace."

Even if the suggestion is logical, and as disturbed by all this as he is, Rhaegar feels a stab of something that the other man would tell him what would be best for him to do, when it is his wife which suffers from bad dreams. Not willing to press the matter where they would risk waking Elia again, Rhaegar quietly stalks to the sitting room and pours some water into two goblets for them both. Rhaegar thrusts it into his hands when he observed the knight followed him out of the room, but, now, without so much as by-your-leave, the knight sits in a chair which gives the knight full view of the door he left open, keeping sentry.

Rhaegar has no other option except to sit across from the man. Rhaegar settles himself for a few moments hoping the man will start to tell him about what they witnessed, yet the man is silent. Jaime Lannister's face is focused on the open door and it betrays nothing but concern. Concern for his wife. Rhaegar stiffens at that thought.

"How did you know she had been dreaming?"

The knight blinks out of his reverie. The man's cheeks color, as if he was alarmed at having been taken unaware of his surroundings. Rhaegar thinks rather viciously that the seemingly perfect knight is not that perfect after all, before he stamps down on his feelings in shame. It is not as though he was of any help. The knight takes a sip, a somewhat drawn out one. To Rhaegar it seemed as though he was stalling for time. Still, Rhaegar's expression brooks no dissent; yet, Jaime Lannister flushes and looks as though he wishes for the earth to swallow him whole.

"She dreamed like this before, Your Grace." In Rhaegar's opinion, and judging by the other man's apologetic expression he also is aware that the answer is wholly unsatisfying. The answer is troubling all the same.

Rhaegar considers what exactly Ser Jaime had said. The knight said she "dreamed", not "dreams". So then, they are not exactly current, but, that they have been known to occur in the past. If the night terrors were in the past then why are they back today? What caused Elia to have a night terror now? Or had they never went away? It also does not explain why he had not been told, even if the dreams have gone away prior to this night.

Reflecting on his time in King's Landing since he had returned, Rhaegar is sure that he would have noticed if she had any. Or rather, certainly Elia would have told him if she had suffered from them. He cringes internally as neither of those two circumstances is necessarily true; even now. When he shared her bed, she always woke and was often gone before he awoke. She was either in the bath or already in the nursery. It troubles him that she still might suffer so, but, he missed it completely. But, again he reminds himself that these are not her chambers, but, his, or rather they used to be his father's. That itself leads to more confusing and disturbing thoughts.

As for her telling him if she even had suffered dreams this troubling, Elia would not say anything to him and he curses himself for it. Ashara laughed at him when he inquired about Elia's demeanor. His wife had her pride, and he had trampled on it already; more than once. Why tell him of another weakness that could be used against her, when he was someone who betrayed her trust in the first place. At any rate, Elia would not want his pity, either.

He could not tell the other man this, but, now that he has to have someone who would tell him what he wishes to know at his disposal he will ask the questions about what he missed and maybe he could help fix the damage done.

"You knew she had dreams this terrifying."

The knight looks at him for a moment, sighs deeply and closes his eyes all the while tilting his head back. "Yes, she has had bad dreams."

"How much does the Maester know?"

"I can not say what the Maester knows, but, her Grace told him she suffered from bad dreams some times. Many did, before and during the war. It seemed her frail health served a good enough excuse." He seemed almost proud of that.

"But, he does not now what she dreamed of."

"That, I can not say."

"However, you knew what she dreams of?"

"Yes." The knight's voice was almost devoid of breath.

"How is it that you know what they contain?"

"I was there when some of them occurred and she told me of them." While the man's tone does not seem to imply anything, Rhaegar's own mind supplies that it should have been him that was here.

"Why did neither of you tell the Maester?" What he truly desires is to ask is why they did not tell him.

"It is not for me to tell anyone what Her Grace thought or dreamed; it is not my place to question her judgment. As it was I was sworn."

"Sworn?"

He shrugs. "To protect her and the children as much as I was able; even if that meant from dreams, and even if my protection came in the form of silence." Rhaegar felt the response like a slap in the face. He had been the one to tell the knight to look after his family as he left. Who else had there been for Jaime or Elia to tell? Rhaegar's mother and father? The Maester whose loyalty could be divided between the Citadel and King's Landing? Ser Darry who was loyal to Aerys? The children? A kitchen wench? Rhaegar feels the tension building in the back of his neck. No; in King's Landing secrets were best left contained unless one wished to gamble with the power they wield and Rhaegar left Elia ill-defended long before war even started with the man who had been once a boy pressed into his father's service.

"Well? What are they about?" If the knight thinks his tone is impatient and sharp, so be it.

The man is clearly uncomfortable, but, Rhaegar knows the other man can sense that he will not let the matter drop unless he has his answers and it can not be forgotten, Rhaegar was his king. "Your father, Your Grace. It is always him."

"When did they start?" The knight, now, ducks his head, but, Rhaegar can see the shadow of incredulity which forms on the younger man's face and Rhaegar remembers the first conversation he had with the knight, on the day of his return. "From the time that Your Grace left for the Tower of Joy, there had been frequent instances where His Grace had been, ah, unkind to the Queen…"

Unkind, he knight said, then. In Aerys, he knew there was no kindness for his own much less anyone else; not for years. But, merely "unkind" does not cause what he just witnessed. Still, he said it while there were others about. Rhaegar snorted; the knight was protecting Elia even then.

"Just describe them."

The knight's face hardens, before he looks away. Rhaegar presses, "Ser Jaime?"

The man wets his lips as if he was nervous. "Perhaps, Her Grace would be the person to ask."

"I am your king, Ser Jaime, and I am asking you now."

The Lannister knight frowns. "Some times she dreamt of what had truly occurred and sometimes they are that which did not happen." The knight is attempting to be evasive and they both know it, but, Rhaegar will not relent.

"I require specifics, Ser Jaime."

Ser Jaime sighs deeply. "Sometimes there were night terrors which mirrored some of what had occurred, such as his berating at her, others like the former queen or some of the remaining servants, or the children. At other times she would dream of him hitting them. Though thankfully rarer than those, there were a few which were far more abnormal."

Bile rises in Rhaegar's throat. Was merely berating or assaulting his family not good enough for his father? Of course not. He knew full well his father had been cruel to his mother. There were few who had not heard the screams from the royal chambers. Rhaegar also knew his father hated Elia; for not being enough of a Targaryen, for not having their looks, for her delicate health, and later, the inability to have more children. But, no, not even the children were spared, except, Ser Jaime's words mean that there was more to this.

He prompted further, "Abnormal?"

Ser Jaime's hands clenched, as if in anger. His voice was low and dangerous.

"Once she dreamed he ordered her burnt alive 'for disobedience' whilst everyone watched; same as the Stark lords and other prisoners." Thinking of the conversation with Ned Stark Rhaegar cringes and shudders. The knight continues as though in a trance; his face darkening, "Some were more troubling." More troubling than dreaming one is burnt alive or garroted?

The knight continues, "In another, she dreamed he held her down and attacked her as he would your lady mother." Rhaegar shudders in horror remembering how his mother had been in her later years. "The last time…" The man hesitated; his face was a study in disgust. He took a deep breath and looked straight into Rhaegar's eyes before continuing. "It was after the king ordered the prince and princess to watch an execution of one of the men held in the black cells. In that one there was a dragon with his face sitting on the Iron Throne, smiling, as feasted on the bodies of children." The man's voice cracked slightly as he delivered that explanation.

Rhaegar feels sick and he has the urge to vomit which he just barely manages stop. In that moment had Aerys been alive Rhaegar would have happily taken up the mantle of kinslayer.

"How many times have there been dreams like this?" He has to know.

The knight vehemently spits out, "Even one was more than enough." Seeing Rhaegar's troubled expression, his tone softens, "A fair few, though the Seven demonstrated their mercy recently. From what I know there have been none lately."

Rhaegar has no reason to doubt what the man says; even then, knowing that there were no such dreams recently that is a small comfort. He had known how cruel his father could be, and he left them here, with his father; but, that had not mattered then, not when he had prophecies to fulfill. Shame & despair fills him. Safety was a relative term, here in King's Landing then, or anywhere truly, but, he paid it no serious mind, thinking the worst was behind him; behind them. It never occurred to him to ask for specifics in the early days of his return. Elia never mentioned any of this and so it slipped from his mind, and what with his duties he'd…

He reprimands himself for the flow of those thoughts. It is not for her to mention it. But, she still told Ser Jaime? No, he saw look that passed between the knight and the Maester to some extent. They both knew and she trusted them to some degree. But, not him.

"You knew what to say to calm her because you were with her when she had them." He thinks the other man may have heared the accusation in his voice, but, Elia's and the knight's closeness had long since confounded him and now here was something which proved that Elia and knight shared something profound and until today he was ignorant of it. He was kept ignorant of it.

The knight returns severely, "How could I not when she has seen mine?" The sharp response shocks Rhaegar as he never heard the man speak to him in that tone. Rhaegar would not traditionally allow a member of the Kingsguard to speak to him that way, but, it is late, exhaustion tempers him. Rhaegar is asking invasive questions, so he will excuse it, this once. But before he could say anything the knight's words register. The knight also had dreams such as this?

The man apparently recognized what he just said and modulates his tone, "I apologize, but, yes, I have seen to her after she had some of these dreams. The children had them sometimes as well; though that was even rarer."

Rhaegar flushes. His wife would not have been spared his father's cruelty, but, he had hoped the children would be. Now he knew that to be false hope. His father would not have been moved by their tender ages.

"Are you positive the Queen had no night terrors recently? Do the children still have them?" He needs to know, if anything can be done; if he could do anything.

The knight turns away and takes some time to answer as though he contemplated his words carefully. "No, I do not believe the Queen had any recently." Rhaegar let out a breath. "And the children?"

The fair-haired knight frowned. "Prince Viserys, had suffered a handful, but thankfully, not many, and not recently. I am rather ashamed to say that he was not completely unexposed to the King's excesses and I suppose his acclimation to unfortunate circumstances tempered the worst of it. But, the later ones he would admit to and it unburdened him…" The knight smiled a bit before continuing, though looking rather embarrassed as well, "For a child he is remarkably resilient." Rhaegar hears the conciliatory tone to that statement.

Rhaegar nods in understanding. From what he saw, his brother was nothing more than a typical boy. Rhaegar does recall Elia reprimanding Viserys for attempting to find their father's bones in these very rooms, in fact, as he said to sate his curiosity about them. At the time, while he thought that sort of curiosity was uncommon, he knew his family was anything but common.

Of course he also observed that the knight trusts the lad and adores Elia and thinks highly of Ser Jaime. Viserys, in the rare times Rhaegar has found himself in his presence, could chatter without ceasing, however, it had not escaped his notice Viserys's hesitancy when speaking of serious matters. They never spoke about their father and, in fact, outside of the argument they had about their mother's crown, about her either. He never thought any of it particularly unusual: he was old enough to be Viserys's father and because of it they were never close as brothers; and he had only returned after more than a year's absence, some months ago. If Viserys had nightmares, Rhaegar doubted he would be the one Viserys would have gone to. If he was honest with himself, he was thankful his brother had not rejected him completely.

The knight continues, breaking Rhaegar's concentration. "The Queen or the nurse would know more if Princess Rhaenys has them now, but, I do not believe she had any in some time."

Rhaegar flushes harder when he remembered how terrified of him Rhaenys used to be. He still remembers how she used to cling to Elia, Ser Jaime, or Ser Darry even, while in his presence and watch him, with a fretful expression on her face. She still was shy with him now. Given what they all seen, was it truly a wonder of how much time Elia & this knight willingly spend with the children?

It is a bitter thought that those he loved would be so affected and they could have avoided all of this if he had wrested control from his father when he had the chance.

Sleep calls to him and Rhaegar is far too tired and the impulse to close his eyes and sleep grows with every passing moment, but there are still some things he wishes to discus.

"She pushed me away, when I tried to wake her." He made it sound as though he was simply imparting information. The man nods; saying nothing and giving nothing.

"Do you know what caused it today?"

"Your Grace, I can not possibly know what affected Her Grace so today." If there is rebuke in that Rhaegar can not say.

"Do you know why one could have possibly occurred today?" The knight frowns.

The man shrugs, however, can not meet his eye when he says, "I do not believe that she has ventured in these apartments many times. It must have disoriented her in some ways to not have been acclimated with these rooms. She was likely far too distraught to see who was in her proximity and what with the fire in the hearth…"

Rhaegar wonders if the man is trying to avoid saying that being here with him reminded Elia of his father. But, he could hardly argue the point. Before sleep could fully take him he remembers something the knight had said to him that knight and a long-forgotten conversation he had some time ago with Ser Jonathor about Ser Jaime.

Rhaegar is uncertain if he should ask, but, he needs to know more about the fire-forged friendship of the knight and his wife and he need to know the extent of damage his father had wrought to those around him.

"Ser Jaime, you said the Queen had seen your dreams. Please, I need to know, did you suffer dreams of my father as well?"

The knight looks away again. The man takes a long sip of water. The knight's other hand clench at his side and his expression is varied. It is as if the man remembers feeling shame, horror, anger, or a mix of them all, before he replies, "Yes, Your Grace I did. All men suffer bad dreams at one time or another." The man's face takes on a haggard sort of quality and his eyes become unfocused as if they have a faraway look.

"Such as?" Rhaegar's sincerity must show on his face because the man simply exhales a breath and nods as if he gives his consent for Rhaegar to know his weaknesses.

"Once or twice I have dreamt of much what the queen has. In others, they were similar enough dreams, but, featuring different persons. Often they were as fanciful as the Queen's most unusual." He stops speaking and Rhaegar knows the knight will not say more. This was a man younger than him, but, he was a man of the Kingsguard and no man such as that would take such confidences with the King, even if it is the King desires it. It is one thing to elaborate to the king on what ails his kin, quite another to reveal their own weaknesses. Rhaegar smiles to himself though it is a bitter one; this one has his pride as well.

Yet, looking at the other knight there is no doubt in Rhaegar's mind that Jaime Lannister suffered badly even if he is trying to make a show of being stoic. The knight is clenching his hands so tightly his knuckles are as white as the cloak he is wearing. His lips are pursed tightly and though he tries to school his face, Rhaegar can identify anger and terror.

Thinking of what the knight had said, even in the vaguest terms, it does not take a fool to know what the other man may have dreamt about. Ser Jaime did admit to having dreams where those closest to Rhaegar were replaced by those beloved by the knight. Rhaegar never paid much attention to matters of court; however, he remembers his mother's screams and the piteous looks of the Kingsguard. He also remembers hearing whispers of how his father's eyes used to follow Lady Lannister when she was in his sights and of the row which caused Tywin Lannister to remove himself from King's Landing. Lady Cersei Lannister and Elia are to be good-sisters soon. Ser Jaime does have a younger brother Tyrion Lannister he says he is fond of.

He is no stranger to dreams, even terrible ones, but, they were his own. Before, he used to dream of mighty dragons, of what befell Summerhall, and had vision-dreams of a silver-haired prince and two dark haired princesses flanking him while they flew on dragons. During the war his dreams were darker: centering on the sounds of shouts and screams, the crash of metal on metal, the smell of blood and decaying flesh, and the sight of dead bodies strewn across fields. After that uneasy talk with Stannis Baratheon he dreamed he was back at the Trident. His mind supplied the sound of gurgling, and the vision of blood bubbling out of Robert Baratheon's throat as the other man fell off of his screeching horse.

Bile rises in Rhaegar throat once again. To his own horror he realizes the taste has become rather familiar. He takes a shuddery breath though it almost hurts to do so now. There is a pounding in Rhaegar's head and his chest feels tight because he knows before the he never truly gave a thought to the dreams which may haunt others or the horror that befell others.

For now neither man speaks; only the sound of their breathing disturbs the silence permeating the room. It is much too late and both men are tired physically and mentally. Rhaegar fights to stay awake, but, not even the impulse to close his eyes can stop him from glancing once more to where Elia is sleeping. He thinks about the children sleeping soundly down the hall and he cringes; his brother, daughter, and one son lived through a war while his sister and other son were born during it; the war he and his father started and it disgusts him even more.

He turns back to the knight. He looks so young and haunted. The ones left behind, they were in a war of sorts, one where even the victor was vanquished though it was by his own hand.

In this moment Rhaegar knows that had his father been yet alive and in front of him Rhaegar feels as though he would happily kill him again and again, to say nothing of simply deposing him. Kingslaying, kinslaying, or neither, unlike with Robert Baratheon this time would be justified and sweet.

Except his father is already dead, by his own fire, and Rhaegar can do nothing about it. All he has are conciliatory words, regrets, and promises, however the heaviness of his eyes means the ability to deliver even those slips away with each passing minute tonight, and there is just so much for him to know; so much he missed...

"Did you tell the Queen of these dreams you had?"

The knight is shaken, taken by surprise at being spoken to again. "Your Grace?"

"Did you tell the Queen of the dreams you had?"

The knight's expression shows his discomfort, but, he admits, "Some, not all. I think the ones she had and the children used to were painful enough, but, sworn as I was, I had to tell her something, though I did not tell of the worst of them."

Rhaegar is somewhat relieved. "Knowing what had been done; you had the strength to keep to your vows and continued to do your duty to keep my father safe until death took him?" To his sluggish mind the question once spoken almost sounded as if he was in awe because he can no longer claim loyalty to his father, even when he is dead.

Ser Jaime falls silent for a while. When he does speak, his voice was so soft Rhaegar, with his consciousness slipping, almost misses it entirely, "I did what I was able. Though I am not in the habit of breaking promises I have undertaken one can only do so much to protect someone from themselves."

Sitting in his antechamber, Rhaegar falls asleep before he can think about the other man's response, much less understand that the knight's response does not answer the question.

* * *

Rhaegar awoke in his antechamber when he hears a brisk knock at the door. He blinks slowly and stretches his arms out. He awoke in the chair he fell asleep in and with a stiff neck at that. He also woke alone.

He rises and calls out at whoever was at the door to enter. It is just a servant who brings him a tray of breakfast. He dismisses her quickly, telling her to leave his bed unmade for now. The breakfast is intended for one person and he does not want to show his disappointment to anyone. When she had gone he opens the door to his bedroom for confirmation. As he expected, it is empty.

He sits down to eat perfunctorily while he attempted to think of how best to approach Elia about what occurred and what he learned last night; yet, now he grimaces, as king now there are duties which he can not avoid. He must postpone speaking to Elia because of the increasing petitions at court he had to listen to and pronounce judgments on.

He knows he is trying to stall this conversation He was the King. He could cancel the court proceedings and have Elia called to him or go to her so they may speak, if he wished it. He is not particularly enthused about speaking to Elia about his father anymore than he suspected she might be at the prospect, particularly if Ser Jaime's reactions are anything to go by.

Rhaegar knew his father was a hard man, made even harder, crueler, and madder by Duskendale and the weight of their family legacy, but, he had never learned how dangerous his father could be until it was far too late. His father was dead; he killed himself trying to be reborn a dragon. Rhaegar, until recently, had been merely regretful he had not deposed his father, except, since last night he regretted even more than that. Very few would remember his father fondly, though, perhaps, Ser Darry whose fierce loyalty to any Targaryen could not be questioned would, but, remembering how terrified Elia looked and how disturbed Ser Jaime seemed, Rhaegar can say that the silver king of his youth had been far gone for some time.

Still, it was not him who suffered because of his father. What right did he have to ask anything from her? More importantly does he truly want to know?

* * *

Jaime looks ahead to where Oberyn and Cersei are strolling hand-in-hand. Of the multitude of feelings warring within him jealousy is not one of them and that does surprise him, somewhat. Perhaps it is that he will not be completely kept away from her.

Of course his lack of feelings on that score could be because he is distracted by thoughts of the other woman in his life. Though this one, for all she is lovely, he harbors no romantic designs toward; even when he is currently in her presence. The Queen looks so very tired and troubled this morning. To his supreme discomfort, shame, and lack of surprise, it is something he is used to. After suffering a nightmare she always woke early and looked tired the morning after, though not many would see it. Unfortunately; it is something he learned to look for and had looked for in the past. Of course he was one of the few who could; not many cared to look at her too closely in the past; even if she was to be the queen, as she is now.

He purses his lips remembering that dreadfully painful conversation he had with the king. He is unsure if he should have said something at all; still, had he been a husband and father he would have wanted to know what ailed his wife and children. Of course the man doing the asking was his king and Ser Jaime does have his vows. The thought makes him smile, but, it is one of bitterness. Vows; was there any lack of them?

He is rather reluctant to broach the subject, but, given that she had not, he thinks she might not have spoken to the king either. That thought strengthens his resolve to speak to her about it even though he does feel guilt gnaw at him for revealing things said and experienced in confidence. He looks around just to observe if anyone was hearing distance. He sees no one close enough to overhear them, not even their siblings. But, before he can open his mouth she moves closer and speaks first.

"I should apologize for last night. I do not know what caused those night terrors. I had not meant to burden you or anyone with them. You have seen me through far too many and I am deeply ashamed and embarrassed you had to come to my aid again."

He tries to smile reassuringly, but, judging by her expression, it might serve no purpose. "It was no bother, Your Grace, you know that. It would be terribly ungallant of me, when you have seen me through the worst of mine."

"Still, it was my own fault it happened. I thought…"

"You thought what, Your Grace", in a lower voice, he questioned, "Elia, you thought what?" Ordinarily he would never be this familiar; however, these circumstances were anything but ordinary.

"I was foolish to think that since he had been dead and I had no such dreams since before His Grace returned that they would have gone completely; that I was strong enough and had overcome them and him, that none of it did. How weak am I that not even one night in his former chambers and they came rushing back as if they never left. He is dead and he still has a hold over me."

He is alarmed she would speak like this. "There is no weakness in that. Do you think that sometimes I do not think the same: that they would return? I know it does not seem to be much of a comfort, but, no one could have imagined the dreams would have returned by sleeping in that room or at all. Often I forwent sleep because I feared them. As I said last night, he is dead and can not have a hold on us, at all. It will pass. I know to be true."

His words sound pretty and are sincere in speaking them, but, he too is reminded of dreams he had. Dreams he refused to tell the king about: Aerys ordering the deaths of the Starks and other prisoners; and his own death. Often he dreamed of King Aerys slapping Elia, but, when he looked again it was Cersei with split lips and bruises. A few times, in his dreams, he hears the screams of the former queen, Queen Rhaella, morph into the screams of his long dead lady-mother.

Elia speaks again, this time smiling faintly, though uneasily. "I truly wish I had you faith. But, what a fool I made of myself, in front of you all. Ser Barristan probably thinks I have gone mad." Her smile fades completely. "I do not even know what to say to His Grace…

His suspicions were confirmed. "Ah, then I should tell you, he knows, and, I think he wanted to speak to you about them this morning."

She stiffens beside him. She looked horrified. "He knows? He knows what I have seen in those dreams? You spoke to him about what you saw and what I said to you? The children's dreams, as well? Everything?" That was said in a tone so low and sharp that he knew fury, worry, and disappointment warred within her. Jaime thought he saw Oberyn's back stiffen; as though he knew his sister was in distress; yet, Oberyn and Cersei never broke pace.

Jaime knew he had not wanted to divulge what he had, but, he had hoped the queen would understand why did. "Not all; never all of it. It is impossible to tell anyone who had not been here everything. Just what was worthy of note. You must believe me. After you succumbed to the effects of the Maester's elixir, he bid me tell about yours and the children's dreams and the like. I could think of no way around it. I could not disobey him in this. He was so very shaken by what he saw. I do not think he took it well, he seemed horrified…"

She must have seen something which caused her to relent and visibly, for him alone to see, deflate. "It seems I keep having to apologize to you. You are correct. It is his right to know. It was my own folly for not telling him. He would have learned sooner or later even if I had not told him." She sounded as though she was convincing herself.

When it was silent for a minute, Jaime breathed a sigh of relief, but, it was short-lived, when she looked at him and spoke again. "Did he ask if you had any yourself or to divulge yours? And did you?"

He knew his expression showed him to be abashed, because she was correct in her guessing. "I told him I too suffered from dreams akin to yours, amongst others, but not the specifics..." Unconsciously he started tracing a finger along his cloak which her eyes caught. She nodded her head; a knowing expression on her face and, despite the situation, faint humor in her voice. "Of course, neither I nor His Grace would expect any less from a loyal member of the Kingsguard." He draws his hand away from his sharply which causes her to ask, "What happened?"

At this time Cersei turned towards them in askance of something, but, Jamie smiled and shook his head. She raised an eyebrow at him and sent a soft smile his way before continuing on; though both she and Oberyn were now whispering, occasionally looking back to where their respective siblings were, only now they themselves were walking closer together than necessarily appropriate and causing quite a stir, up ahead. He wished he could take merriment from their antics, but the question the queen asked was still on his mind.

"Thankfully, though sleep took him not shortly after, he asked me how I could have served Aerys seeing what I saw and knew what I knew, even if I took the vows."

Her mouth was in a thin line; her expression tinged with worry. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I was not one to break my habits and that before Aerys died I did what I was able though unfortunately I cannot protect those who do not wish to protect themselves." To them, even in death, he would always be Aerys; never His Grace, King Aerys.

She smiles a bit. "For all you are chivalrous and a sight to behold with a sword in hand, sometimes I think you are all wrong for the cloak you wear." Her tone, admiring.

He looks at her. "Oh?"

She finally laughs, but, her voice was still low, barely a whisper, "Ser Jaime, that was an answer tailored by someone who belongs at court, not of a knight. Lady Cersei says, of you both, she is more like Lord Tywin, but, there is something of him in you as well. That was a perfect answer if I have every heard one; an innocuous answer which says almost nothing if you are not paying attention."

He looks at her and tenses. "What do you make of my answer?"

"If there was anything I had learned, it is if the will is strong enough habits can even be kept or broken and we did what both of us were able, for whom we could. You were correct however; he could not have been saved if he had not wished it and he did make it rather difficult." She pats his arm and he releases the breath he never realized he was holding.

* * *

Rhaegar walks to Elia's solar after he decided he presided over enough decisions for petitioners. Enough time was lost. Now he and his wife would talk. He snorted inwardly. They seemed to be doing plenty of talking since he returned from war. Much to his chagrin, there was far more talking between them than they had done in their marriage before he left for the Tower of Joy; however, they have not been talking enough if they never talked about this. Then again, he would not have thought he would have to talk to her or anyone about dreams, much less horrid ones. His willingness to fulfill dreams at the expense of all else allowed his father to remain the center of bad dreams for others. He supposed the Seven would be laughing at him now.

Truthfully, he is not as surprised by their not talking about this as he should be. How does one even begin to speak about something that had not shown itself; this was the first time he had seen Elia like that at all? It was a flimsy excuse, but, a very real one. They were busy rebuilding: him with the numerous council meetings and overseeing never-ending petitions; her with the children, other duties, and keeping courtiers entertained. While they would talk frequently, they talked about everything else; everything immediate.

In the beginning they spoke some of Lyanna, though not much. Thinking of Lyanna confused him, even now. Not even speaking with her brother made Rhaegar any less confounded by it all. But, she was dead, and he'd done enough to Elia to bring Lyanna up with her overmuch. He saw the look on her face when he told her that he was going to legitimize Jon. She tensed, her lips twitched a bit, and she simply said, "Of course", and no more on that subject.

They also used to speak regularly about coronation related events, but, now that that was over and done with there was no point to speak on that any more. They would speak occasionally of the preparations of Oberyn's and Ashara's weddings; but, he was not particularly interested in that. They spoke of the Baratheons, though the youngest Baratheon is a topic of conversation because of Viserys; and the others less so. Robert Baratheon was a stranger to her and a difficult subject for him; Stannis Baratheon is a polite man to them both, but, warmer to Elia; but, likely that was Ashara's doing.

Mostly they would speak about the children, though, besides Viserys's education, Rhaenys's toddling about, and the children's general health, the children were much too young to have anything else to speak upon. Elia would attend some sessions at court with him, and they would speak about what happened at court when she was not present; but, no, Rhaegar would not have thought to speak about nightmares. Certainly, they never spoke about his father. He never truly thought they would have to; his father hated Elia, and his father mistrusted, and likely hated, him as well; then again, his father had little love for anyone save himself. To have brought him up would have only been dredging up the past and it would have served no purpose save to trouble them both. Only now there was ease with their practiced routines and no longer were there distractions to keep the past at bay and it had come storming back.

He was let in to her solar by a handmaiden and soon he and his wife were left alone. Elia now looked unhappy and tired, but, resigned; ever the highborn lady, she was polite. When she poured herself a cup of wine, she offered him some as well and filled the cup almost completely. Rhaegar would have laughed at this, except he suspected he would need a full cup.

"Ser Jaime tells me you spoke of the dreams I have had, and it should not have fallen to him. I truly apologize; it was my responsibility to tell you about them. I had not wanted to worry you, but, it seems they had not gone away as I hoped. I had thought I was past them."

"Yes, you should have told me of them, even if you want to spare me worry." He is not just talking about the dreams, but, she has not way of knowing that. He is not angry with her. He hopes she recognizes it. His father was to blame and he was the one to leave her with his father. "It does worry me. You were terrified. I have never seen you so shaken. Still, I am the one who should apologize; I could do nothing but watch as it happened."

He can not read the expression which makes its home on her face. "I would not have expected you to help with something you had no way of knowing occurred at all and that was my doing. I should have been honest with you instead of trying my hand at brave." Though she does not say it, Rhaegar thinks if he had never left this would never had occurred at all.

"You are." She looks at him confusedly. "Brave, I mean."

Now she laughs sourly and turns away, "What sort of bravery is that where I am held captive by my own dreams?"

"You are here the next day. We are here. We still live and try to move past dead dreams. There is bravery in that." He speaks the words to her, but, he speaks for himself.

He speaks again, "Last night, it was about my father; what he did to you and the children." There was no evading that both know last night she dreamt about Aerys.

She takes a sip before responding tremulously, "Yes."

"Why did you never tell me what he had done?"

"He was your father, Rhaegar; and my good-father. He was also my king. He is also dead. What was done was done and nothing could erase what happened no matter how I wish it." Even now he sees the way others look with distrust at the Starks, the Tully's, Lord Stannis, and even the Hand. King Aerys was mad; however, he was still the king and it is disreputable to speak ill of the dead and of one's kin, no matter what they had done. Still that does not explain it way her eyes evade his and the odd tone to her voice causes him unease. It is just not the horrors suffered by her because of Aerys she talks about. She has not forgiven him for Lyanna and for Jon, for leaving them; no, not quite, she has forgiven, but, not forgotten. She does not trust him; not like Ser Jaime. The last thought comes fierce and unbidden.

"Yet you told Ser Jaime?" He phrases it like a question, but, it wasn't.

Her voice is steady, but, soft. "He was here to see us have these dreams and suffered them as well. Once or twice we had the same dreams. He is one of the few here to know what it was like." Though he nods in acknowledgement because he knows what she says is true, Rhaegar hears: He was here, you were not. We suffered together; we suffered your father together, alone for the most of it. It is now him that needs to gulp wine.

He shakes himself out of those thoughts. She did not say what she had to cut him, he did not think so. To gather himself he asks another question.

"Do the children…had he hurt them much? Do they still suffer horrid dreams?" It would be foolish to simply ask if his father had merely hurt them once. From what little he remembered of Viserys and Rhaenys from before the war they had not feared him. They would not have had to learn he was not an object to fear if there had not been something to fear to begin with. Elia's dream and the knight's words merely confirmed it.

"Thank the Seven there were not many times though we had tried to keep them away…" She sounded shy and ashamed; whether because she felt she failed to keep them safe or because of residual lessons of courtly manners preventing her from acknowledging that she even had to try and keep the children safe from their own kin, Rhaegar could only guess. Of course, "tried" was not "managed" so he is much more positive about it being the former.

She gathered herself before continuing. "No dreams for some time now. Viserys would rarely talk about any dreams he would have before and during the war, as if divulging anything about them would demonstrate a weakness in him. He said 'Even if he had not been in battle yet, he wanted to be a warrior one day and warriors do not fear dreams'. Eventually we talked him around and he let us comfort him."

Rhaegar's tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His dreams demanded he be a warrior and it was after he had been battle that he knew what it took to be one. Now his victory does not seem so sweet; not with what it cost.

Elia looks to him, for him to say anything. He manages, "You were correct to try with him. Children ought to be children, no matter how royal their blood. I think you were good for him."

She smiles a bit in response. He presses on, "What of Rhaenys? Does she still have them?"

"No, she does not." Her tone is apologetic; Rhaenys is still painfully shy when he is near, though she no longer cries upon seeing him. That it could be considered a small victory is distressing, but, children are durable that way.

However the wistfulness of that future is clouded by what he will address now. Thinking of her dream and what Rhaegar remembers listening to Ser Jaime last night he has a measure of what his father had done, but he wishes to hear it from Elia.

"He had hurt you many times?"

"Enough". Her answer is sharp and she amends it. "Yes."

"He had threatened you?"

"Yes." The "Of course" lingering in her voice was plain.

"He had hit you many times?" A nod.

Remembering Ser Jaime's answers and reactions, last night a question, an ugly thought, forms in his mind.

"Like he used to my mother…did he…?" He cannot even get the question out.

She laughed hollowly, "No; never that. At first I was not Targaryen enough; then I wasn't worthy enough; not for him, even for that. Whatever he was, he was capable of kindness, even if that was not his intention." She smiles unevenly, but, there is no more humor in it than what Rhaegar feels.

Anger wars with confusion; "What?"

"He hated me. My looks were just one of the reasons he would cite regularly. I was good enough to be his good-daughter because I have Targaryen blood; nothing more recommended me to him. You know that." The last sentence was spoken softly, but, Rhaegar felt the accusation in the tone and it was justified. He did know how his father felt. His father was not shy about sparing anyone shame or discomfort. His father had voiced his feelings toward Elia more than once, but, he had dismissed it then.

She starts speaking again. "'What would be the point?' He'd say. He had no love for me, or, anyone truly, but, in his rages he would say that it would serve no purpose to debase himself with someone useless like me: I was barren so I could not give him a child even if he wanted from me so that…" She trails off and looks away to take a healthy sip of wine.

Rhaegar can feel the disgust and dread rising within him; however, he prodded; now he must see this through. "That what, Elia?"

She turns to face him; her face is tinged green, she looks torn and troubled, "He said it was a waste of time to use it as a lesson…" Rhaegar wishes he could simply be confused, but, he is even more sickened and enraged.

She continues, though her voice takes on a distant tone. "He used to say to the Queen it meant that she belonged to him; to traitors like Tywin Lannister only his lady-wife's death prevented him from teaching what it meant to try and reach higher than a person ought; but, of what worth could it possibly be to defile himself with me, when you took what you valued most with you?"

When she finishes speaking she lets out a sound which could have been disgust, horror, or sadness, but, it was ambiguous. She spoke the words as if they were familiar; it was either that his father's rages were frequent enough or she not only understood the meaning of those words but had come to accept them as truth. Did she come to believe she meant nothing to him? He feels sick while he fights the urge to vomit, but, he also feels burning rage.

He wanted to know, to confirm how much of a monster his father was. Now he has more of an answer than he ever desired. What he does not know is how he should feel or what to say.

Troubling thoughts swam in his mind. His father's barbs were always meant to cut and now looking at Elia, Rhaegar looks back on the way they have been on his return and it makes him question his and Elia's relationship. He had wished to return to the way they were before, but, now, all of this, he does not know if she wanted the same or just acted out of habit, out of duty, or something else entirely. They had been sharing a bed for weeks; had she only done so because she felt she should and that she needed to? He remembers speaking to his Hand and others, who are rather admiring that their Queen was rather "practical". Was their relationship just another thing she was practical about because she thought he had not loved her like his father said, but, had no other recourse?

"Do you believe that; what he said about hurting you would not affect me?"

"He hated me. There is no reason to take anything he said as truth and surely not now; not when he is dead and you are here, with me." Rhaegar swallows a sip of wine at the response. She said she does not believe it, not that she had never had. He remembers his mother's and Ashara's words to him after Harrenhal, "You honored another woman over your wife and your future queen and do you think she would take it as anything less than a slight?" He had acted to honor Lyanna, but, not for the reasons they thought. Somehow, it always comes back to that, but, thinking about that will not help now.

"Last night, you pushed me away. Did you confuse me for my father?" Speaking with Ser Jaime caused him to think about the similarity in looks and their willingness to shatter conventions because of their dreams.

"Last night was an aberration. I was in the throws of a bad dream. I do not confuse you with your father. You are not him. You could never be him." He had hurt her all the same with Lyanna.

He blurted out the next questions. "Do you share my bed because of duty? Is that the only reason why you are with me and no one else?"

The startled look on her face shows him that she had not expected these particular questions, but, she is also angry. "Who said such horrid things? Who has been filling your head with nonsense and lies such as that? How could you ask that of me? How low of a person do you think I am?"

He replays the words he spoke in his head. Was it a wonder she was furious with him now? "I apologize, that was thoughtless of me to speak in that manner. I needed…"

"Needed what, Rhaegar?" She was still angry.

"I needed to know if you are not just with me because you feel you ought to, that you do not feel pressured because you feel it is your duty as my wife. Even after your dreams Ser Jaime could comfort you while I could not."

On her face exasperation fights with anger and disbelief, when she spits out, "He has seen me have dreams such as those for the better part of a year. He is a member of your Kingsguard and I am your wife, just yours. There will never be anyone else, there could never be."

In a resigned voice, she says, "I share your bed because I wish to." The unspoken "You fool" was quite evident.

"Why?" The look she sends his way tells him she thinks he is being incredibly dense. Incidentally, it is one that looks very much like he sees consistently on her brother, Oberyn's, face.

"You are my husband and I do love you. Is that not reason enough?"

"I have hurt you in the past."

Her voice is soft, but, unwavering. "Yes, yes, you had hurt me, I do not deny it, but, never like him; not even then. Did I not say that you are not the same man who left and that it pleased me? I doubt you could hurt me like he had or like you had once, ever again. That I am sure of."

Thinking about Ashara's smirking disbelief, he hesitatingly asks, "Are you sure? Or do you still fear that I will set you or the children aside? I never would have. Is that why you accepted Jon, even my legitimizing him?"

One slightly hysterical bout of laughter leaves her, as if she cannot fathom what she is hearing. "I am sure. If I was not I would have left for Sunspear and would have even tried to take the children with me if I was not sure of you." He is shocked at her response and his chest tightens at even the possibility of her leaving of her taking the children turning into a reality.

She looks at him sadly. "Oh, Rhaegar, I believed it to be cruel at the time and I had been hurt because of it. I will admit I did fear for our children and I still do, but, whatever you did, you did not out of malice. I know that, now. Did you just not hear me when we spoke about what your father had done? As cruel as he was, what you did proved to be a kindness, but, not even gratitude, duty, or habit, would be enough for me to do something that I do not wish; even remain your wife. Do not doubt that."

His body sags in relief, even if the words he heard were not particularly kind. However, she continues, and he tenses again. "With Jon, this is not Dorne; bastards are not treated kindly and he is yours. I do see the looks of pity when others catch sight of him or speak to me; how their eyes always ask how I could forgive that you were unfaithful, take your child so easily into my home and hold him in my arms. I can not help what others think or feel, but, I have seen enough cruelty to wish it on anyone else. I have no desire for others to taste it from me, least of all your child. You would try to do right by him. I can understand that."

"But, you were tense when I told you that I was legitimizing him."

"Yes, I did tense, and for a moment I was pained, remembering, and I can not say that I will never again. Still, that is a burden for me to overcome, so please let me."

He agrees with a smile, although it is filled with melancholy, "As you say. But please, do not keep things from me which distress you. I do not think I could bear to find out this way, not again."

She nods, "I swear it…" She trails off, uncertain and nervous.

"What is the matter?" Certainly there was nothing else too troublesome, no other horror that went unaddressed.

She hesitates before speaking. "I have one request of you; that is, if you are amenable."

"Anything." He was ready to give her just about anything.

"In the mean time, if you wish to spend the night with me, come to me. I am not ready to join you in those rooms, if I ever will be."

He smiles reassuringly, finally able to relax somewhat. "Very well; I think something can be arranged."

If a simple thing such as that could begin to help, even just to a small degree, then he would do that.


	10. Chapter 10

Jaime Lannister moves to where his clothes lay, where in his frenzy, he haphazardly tossed them.

"Jaime, where are you going?"

He turns to look upon his sister. Moving back to the bed, he leans down to kiss her once more.

"Good, you are awake. Go on, bathe, the water is still warm. Breakfast is in the outer chamber."

Confused, she replied, "It is still early. Certainly you do not mean to leave me now?"

Looking at his sister's reaction he sits down on the corner of the bed. "Certainly you do not wish for us to be seen like this? What with King's Landing so filled with our vast family in preparation for your upcoming wedding? Even if Father will be out with Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna until midday it would not do for anyone to come upon us looking as we do. No one will believe we breakfasted for hours. We have been careful thus far, but, fate may not champion us every time."

"Very well, I shall be out in a few minutes."

Shortly after, Cersei joined her twin at the table. She noticed the slight urgency her twin had while eating. "Where are you going in such a hurry? I hope you are not trying to flee from me."

He smiles. "Of course not. Tyrion will no doubt send someone to look for me; Prince Viserys likely as well. It seems I owe a sword lesson and there have been hinting since midday yesterday that the sword lesson is to be collected on. Prince Viserys should be finishing up his lessons with the Maester soon. We risk too much as it is."

Cersei groans, grimacing. "Sword lessons? You leave me for sword lessons with our brother. What good is a sword lesson for him? It is bad enough he is here."

Jaime frowns. "Cersei, he is our brother and he is a boy like the others. He'd do well to be in the company of lads his age even if he sits in the practice area with a book while the other two play at being soldiers. There are worse things for Tyrion then be on good terms with His Grace's younger brother."

Cersei fought not to roll her eyes. "But, that does not mean you have to be the one to tend to him."

"No, I do not; still, I would be more comfortable if I was there with him and it would do better to have me there when Prince Viserys and Lord Renly have their lessons. Lord Baratheon intends to leave soon with Lord Renly and it would be better for Tyrion to make friends with the prince and younger lords while our family is at court."

"You protect him too much."

"He is our brother." Seeing her expression, but, but, wishing not to upset her, he changed his tact he used an argument which would settle the matter, for now. "Father agrees with me. Father commanded he be here for the wedding. The whole of our family is. People would whisper if he was not here as well."

Cersei looked unconvinced; however, she would not gainsay their father. "People will talk when they see him regardless and since when do we care of what others say?" At her brother's pleading expression she relents. "Very well. Still, why do you have to go now? We rarely spend time together anymore. I miss you."

He laughs. "Oh; and what we have done, this was not spending time together?"

"That is not what I am referring to. Your duties keep you so busy and the queen."

Jaime raises an eyebrow. "You only have to call for me and I would come to you. It is you who are too busy." Gesturing to the nearly finished Lannister red cloak perched over the back of a chair.

Cersei's face slipped into a serious expression.

Jaime laughs and kisses her lips. "My sweet sister, come now. I have no eyes for anyone else, and the queen counts you as a friend. Even without her being my queen, you know the Martells have been very good to us."

Cersei had to concede the points her brother were making were accurate. Jaime loved her, was completely loyal to her and she knew it. As to the Queen, even if she had believed they were rivals in the past, with all that happened, the silver prince Cersei had believed herself to be in love with then lost much of his charm. Jaime was correct; Elia was a kind woman, much too kind to scheme to take another woman's man, as had been done to her, even if the woman was set to marry her brother. As for Oberyn, he was as near as perfect a husband she could ask for, given the circumstances.

Before she could say anything more, Jaime spoke, "If anyone is to be jealous should it not be me? You are the one marrying someone else and judging by Father's grumbling, planning on taking you farther away, to the Free Cities."

"It will only be for a short while. It was Prince Doran's idea. 'It would be good for me to see more of the world'." Cersei's face turned serious. "But, you know I love you, no matter how pleasing Oberyn can be."

Her expression was mirrored in his. "Yes, I know that and I am grateful for his understanding."

She too frowned. "Still I worry and Oberyn does as well. Do not think for one moment it escaped our notice that there was something odd about that day we were together or that you and the queen both have been distracted lately. Oberyn and I can sense that you both are troubled. Do not say it is nothing to fret over. What happened?"

His sister knew him too well. "You will not leave this will you?" Seeing her expression he sighed. "Swear that this remains between us."

"I swear it."

"Aerys Targaryen."

Cersei was incredulous. "King Aerys? What of him?"

Jaime rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The former king was a hard man to forget, even when he is dead…"

He trailed off and Cersei flushed and fell silent.

Cersei did not need her brother to say much more; she never needed him to. Even if she did not need him to protect her, Jaime kept very little from her unless it was to shield her from what was truly horrendous, but, she was she was no feather headed fool that believed that King's Landing was anything but a nest of snakes, and during the war, the Red Keep housed the most dangerous of them all. Even if Elia was much too polite to speak of such things and while Oberyn was less circumspect, even he was discreet about what the Mad King had truly been like, people talked and news from King's Landing travelled into Casterly Rock regularly; even after their father resigned as Hand. Hearing just a fraction of it all was what caused her to lose interest in being in Elia's place. Being future Queen of Westeros was one thing; the good-daughter of Aerys Targaryen quite another. She shivered. No title or silver-haired husband was worth that.

Though she was certain there was more to the tale than what her brother was saying she let it go. "I see. Do you wish for me to keep this from Oberyn?"

"If he asks if you know tell him to come to me. The Queen would rather put the whole mess behind her and I quite agree it would be best for us all. What is done is done. No good comes from dredging up matters best left alone."

That ended the matter for the siblings.

Hearing a knock at the door Jaime goes to answer it. It's a Lannister servant, with a note from his father in one hand, with Tyrion at her side, book in his hand. Jaime fights not to laugh as he lets the pair in.

* * *

"Brother, had you seen our sister lately?" Oberyn Martell sat down, in ill-temper, tinged with worry.

Putting aside the scrap of paper he was looking at, Doran replied, "This past evening; why? Has something happened?" Doran furrowed his brow, looking concerned at the question and his brother's state. As far as he knew there was no cause for the level of concern his brother was showing for their sister.

"She said she had been sleeping rather poorly of late."

Doran looked at his brother in disbelief. In a droll voice, he managed, "Everyone is allowed to sleep poorly once in awhile, even our sister." Elia had appeared tired, but, that had not worried him. His sister had always had delicate health, though now there was no reason why she would be affected by it too badly and he would have known if something had happened. Still, worry crept into his voice, "Has she been to the Maester?"

Oberyn let out a long-suffering sigh. "She had said the Maester gave her something to help her sleep a few nights ago. Still, I know our sister better than that. There is more to what she is saying. She and Ser Jaime were acting quite unusually when Cersei and I went for a walk with them."

Now sitting back comfortably, Doran remarked, "I do grant it is likely perhaps she is ill and does not want to worry you or it could easily be she is simply tired. Still, not everything is a conspiracy, brother. Perhaps they were discussing council business or something to do with the children. Have you thought it just might be that?"

Oberyn nodded his acceptance of that. Thinking on his brother's concerns, Doran could find multiple scenarios which would cause Elia distress. Though he might not be as close to his sister as their younger brother, he loved his sister just as fiercely and knew her well enough to know she would not disturb anyone else unless necessary and he also knew her lot was not one without worry. Being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms while being mother to five children was no easy thing. Adjusting to the return of that husband of hers from that overlong, foolish war would no doubt be difficult. She had other duties as well. Even with the most robust health there was cause for her to be out of sorts. Her health was not particularly vigorous even if it failed her less as of recently.

Looking at his brother, it was obvious to him that Oberyn thought though he was being dismissive. "It is more than that. She also seemed distracted and Ser Jaime has been as well. I was not the only one who noticed something was amiss. Cersei noticed something was off with her brother as well."

Doran tilted his head, forward, "Oh? And where is she now?"

"With Ser Jaime."

Before this, Oberyn could count on one hand how many times he had well and truly surprised his brother.

"Is that not quite the risk they take?" Doran took the particulars of the Lannister siblings in stride, yet, having practical knowledge of their actions in King's Landing was atypical.

"They know to be careful."

Another thought flew to Doran's mind. "Certainly you did not put…"

"Of course not. She loves him and is friends with Elia." Oberyn said hotly. "She was just as concerned as I am."

Putting aside his thoughts on his brother's betrothed's relationship with her brother, Doran continued. "Elia is bound to have difficult nights and be tired and distracted, Oberyn. Everyone with many duties tend such as hers are bound to have rough nights once in a while. The same goes for Ser Jaime." Doran felt his argument was a logical one, as the ruling Prince had more duties, but, Oberyn would not relent, not after how strangely his sister and his future good-brother were behaving.

"It is more than that. I swear it. Even that fool husband acted strangely. Did you not catch the looks he was giving her? I could smell the sadness and grief rolling off of him. He is the cause of it I am sure! He must have done or said something to disturb her further." Doran fought not to roll his eyes while sending a prayer to the Seven in thanks that that they were alone in his chambers. Oberyn took far too much pleasure in needling their good-brother and their good-brother was well aware of it. It would not do for Rhaegar to find out about Oberyn's words and cause even more difficulties for their sister; even if it was likely Rhaegar Targaryen was at the center of whatever ailed his sister, assuming, of course, something of note actually had occurred between them.

Still, he ventured softly, "You cannot blame him for everything when she had not said he was at fault, if there actually is anything to find fault with."

"Certainly you know that man legitimized his bastard. Do you think she took that well? You can surely blame him for that. It is bad enough he insists on raising the child here with her own children. Her having to see that whelp is enough of a travesty, even more than the brat's existence."

Doran fixed him with a look; his thoughts obvious.

Oberyn countered, "I never gave them my name, now did I?"

"No one is saying you have, Oberyn." Doran took a fortifying breath before continuing. "Even if they quarreled again, has she complained to you about it? No? Then leave it be. No marriage is without it is arguments. Our sister is not incapable of seeing to her own affairs. She would not thank us if we meddle or allow for others to believe we see her as weak. As to our good-brother's son, you knew that was a likely possibility before we even arrived. Even then, our nephew is, undisputedly, the heir, and the child is not even second in line. The succession is confirmed with the boy placed after Prince Viserys, at that. Certainly you find no fault in that?"

Oberyn hissed, "That is not the point. The other one only had to be legitimized because fate was kind enough so that the chit died before that fool made it back to the Tower with a sympathetic Septon at his heels!"

"And where near the Tower of Joy do you think our good-brother was going to find a Septon, a sympathetic one, much less, to preside over another wedding for our good-brother, before Jon could be born?"

Oberyn turns sharply to his seated brother. Except the stress on the name of the Stark wench's brat, Doran's voice was mild as he put forth this particular argument. Doran snorted as he continued, "Come now Oberyn. Where was he going to find a Septon in Dorne of all places; after that mess at Harrenhal, when the banners of Dornish houses loyal to us were raised because of Aerys' madness for a war no one in Dorne truly had no desire to partake in, after the war was won, but, with him not present and the girl dead?" Doran posed his question calmly; yet his tone was too serene for Oberyn's taste.

That gave Oberyn pause. Doran had been remarkably calm throughout most of this entire debacle though Doran had been just as angry about that mess at Harrrenhal as he had been and when war was declared. Doran, though he was never severe, would never be objective or tranquil about their sister's humiliation or threats to the legacy of their kin. Oberyn thought over his brother's words carefully coming to a conclusion he was not expecting.

He accused, "You know something."

"I have seen much of the world and have been a Prince to my own realm for many years. I am of an age to know many things."

"Well?" Even the silkiest and most dangerous tone of his voice caused nothing but a raised eyebrow in his brother. Oberyn never thought his brother would keep anything of magnitude from him, but, there was something in the way his brother was saying what he was which put him on edge.

"I know House Dayne of Starfall, House Qorgyle of Sandstone, House Manwoody of Kingsgrave, and House Blackmont of Blackmont are friends to us and have been loyal to for years."

"I am not some toddling child ignorant of geography or traditional house loyalties brother! As it is, Ser Arthur is a Dayne and he still served our good-brother and pandered to the Stark girl."

"He is also a friend to the King and a member of the Kingsguard. I expected nothing less than for him to follow Aerys & Rhaegar's orders and you know full well he, nor any of them, went to any other Dornish stronghold during the war."

"So?"

"Those four locations I just spoke of are nearest to the Prince's Pass where the Tower of Joy stands."

"And?" Oberyn thought his brother was being deliberately difficult and secretive; something he had not expected from his older brother.

"No help was given to them by any other Dornish ally of ours was there?"

Oberyn admitted gruffly, "No."

Doran sat forward, his eyes blazing, but, vice soft, "What makes you think they or any other Dornish house would not know what occurs in their own domain, even if it was a simple thing as knowing the identities of those who enter it or who resides in them for extended periods of time. Or do you believe they would actively aid someone by providing a man, even a prince, a Septon, even a wandering one, so that he may have a second wife or heirs if it meant betraying sons and daughters of Dorne? Or is it your belief they would dishonor their liege-lord by allowing an insult to the daughter of the former ruling Princess or sister of the current ruling Prince?"

Oberyn had to concede the points his brother made were valid, but, still there questions which had nagged at him. "They allowed them entry into Dorne."

Doran inclined his head, "Rhaegar Targaryen was husband to our sister; at the time no one could have known what baggage he brought with him. Brother, think of it as a room one enters: simply because one was allowed in does not mean that they would be allowed out; and the girl did not leave by her own volition or alive for that matter, did she?

Oberyn's face clouded in anger. "But, brother, suppose the girl had lived, what then? You know that fool would have taken her to wife."

Doran snorted inelegantly, but, looked his brother squarely in the eye. "Do you think Aerys Targaryen sent his Kingsguard after Rhaegar & the Stark-chit because he held affection for his son or any at all for the girl?"

Doran laughed. "The Kingsguard were meant to find our good-brother and keep that girl safe so Aerys Targaryen could use her; a bargaining chip to use against the North and Rhaegar. Our sister at least had the benefit of Targaryen blood and having given the realm a prince; at the time the girl could not claim either. Do you think Lyanna Stark would have had the fortitude to act like Aerys' good-daughter knowing that he killed her family? They were fools if they believed their love would protect them from Aerys's madness. Can you imagine Aerys allowing her to be a queen when he did not give Rhaegar leave to marry the girl before he absconded with her? He would have more likely killed his son and the girl for their impertinence; perhaps the child as well if the mood struck him. Rhaegar Targaryen had better thank the Seven for gifting him with the death of his father before he returned here, even if they denied him the girl."

Now Doran's voice was even lower and the venom in his voice almost caused Oberyn to shudder. "It was insulting enough Rhaegar favored the girl over Elia once before. Still, our good-brother did himself no favors by bringing that girl within our borders. Even if any Dornish lord would have been kinder to her than Aerys, do you honestly think any of them or I would have let them go so that the girl could usurp Elia's place? Had the girl lived, I would have seen her sent packing back to her brother, whichever one lived long enough to call himself Lord of Winterfell. Rhaegar would not have had her, under any circumstances. Yet, no action on my part was required long before the war ended."

Silence weighed heavily about then as Oberyn considered his brother's words. His brother would have arranged for the girl to go back to the North had she lived.

Oberyn leaned into where his brother was seated, questioning, but, not asking.

Doran shrugged a shoulder. "The Dornish desert is unforgiving and childbirth could be as well." Oberyn conceded the point; Elia almost died birthing Aegon.

Oberyn could see the intelligence of his brother's words. "You knew for certain the girl had died."

Doran admitted, "I did. As I said, the other Dornish houses have been loyal to us for years. Even if no Dornish lord had any aid to give those at the Tower, they would not have been ignorant of what occurred there. It is remarkably difficult to keep such things as a birth secret where not many people should be in the first place".

"You told me nothing of this, not once."

"I do not like speaking on uncertainties and once the matter came to light and it simply would not do for our good-brother to see you look so cheerful at his misfortune." There was brotherly censure in that, no matter how light the tone. Doran sighed. "Unfortunately, I did not foresee Rhaegar bringing the child here and not leaving him with her kin".

Giving his brother a firm look, Doran continued, "We can not change what happened; only mind the present, and prepare to safeguard our future. I would have failed our parents and their dreams for us if I allowed them to crash because the foolishness of others. I can only call it fortunate that both the girl's and Aerys's deaths was satisfactorily timed. I certainly do not mourn either loss. All I ask is this: do not speak ill of the child; no more goading Rhaegar; and no more insults hurled towards him, Aerys, or the Starks; none of it. I do not deny they wronged us. Yet, it would not do to speak ill of the dead or our good-brother. Do not give others cause to think badly of us, if not for our sakes then for Elia's and the children. Our hands are clean, Brother."

Oberyn nodded. Their hands would remain clean. For family he would do plenty, no matter how distasteful it was to him.

"Good. Now, tell me, has Lord Lannister accosted you of the antics you and you lady have been engaging in aside from the ones the three of you kept secret."

Oberyn smiled for the first time since he sat down.

* * *

The clang of swords hitting each other sounded as the king, Rhaegar Targaryen, and his close friend and member Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning, practiced with their swords.

After the third time he disarmed his king, Arthur spoke, frowning. "Your Grace, you seem distracted. Does something trouble you?"

The king had been out of sorts these few days past. At first Arthur thought the king was just distracted because his duties wearing on him. Being King was never an easy task and even the Mad King in brief moments would argue of the difficulties of being king. Of course, this king had to contend with a fractured kingdom and this one was actually mindful of the state of the kingdom. Yet, Arthur could see it was not merely that.

He wondered if the king and queen fought again. Not days ago they were seemingly completely reconciled, yet, as far as he knew they had not spent nights together as they had been known to recently.

With one last glance about, the king led the way to the armory to store their weapons in silence.

After some time, Rhaegar sighed glancing around to see if they were in private. "Do I have your word that this remains between us?"

"Yes, of course." Now Arthur was well and truly worried. The king never had to ask to keep his counsel secret before.

Almost speaking in his friend's ear, Rhaegar started, "Some nights ago I witnessed Elia in the throws of a nightmare; a terrible one."

Arthur looked at his friend and king in confusion and concern. At first what he heard sounded ridiculous considering the grave nature of the way the King was speaking to him, but, his mind was flooded with questions. What nightmares? As far as he knew Elia never suffered from nightmares. What could they have been about? When had they started? Why had no one told him?

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. He was fooling himself. Elia and not even Ashara, if she knew about nightmares, would have told him about them. Since they had returned from war, with Jon, Elia seemed to distance herself away from him. There was no cruelty in Elia so he was sure it was not meant as a slight, but, they were not as close as they used to be. Ashara loved him, he did doubt that, but, now she rarely spoke to him about Elia or Rhaegar. No, after they returned from war, there was a wall of sorts, one that had been built long before Arthur had been commanded to go to the Tower of Joy.

Before all of it there was a deep friendship between the four of them. But, since Harrenhal, since the war, that bond between them faded and grew into divided loyalties. Though they never spoke of it, Arthur knew both women held him responsible to some degree.

That damned tourney, it always came back to that. He did not know what possessed Rhaegar to honor the Stark girl in that way, and he never offered Arthur an explanation. Of course he had not asked. Ashara had been furious with him as well for not knowing why and not asking. Elia never spoke to him about it though she had been hurt. Though Elia never said anything, Ashara had said enough for him to know that Rhaegar's actions with Lyanna Stark induced anger and bitterness in both women for different reasons.

He knew why they would have hoped he would control his friend, but, it was not as simple as that. It was true, he and the king were friends, even though they were different; he was seen as the sensible one while the former prince had been the dreamer. Yet he could not have asked his friend for an explanation or admonished him; not when he was the Crown Prince and now that he was the King.

He sat silently and saw the look on Elia's face at Harrenhal as Rhaegar gave the girl the "crown", stood by and watched as Ashara was commanded to return to Dorne when it was discovered she was with child, he sat through Aerys's fury, he lived through the consequences of Rhaegar's madness. He had to.

King Aerys had sent him to look for Rhaegar, in part because he hated and mistrusted the Dornish, but, also because of the friendship between his son and himself. That he would be the ne to make Rhaegar see reason. Ashara never understood that he could not control Rhaegar, that he could not forsake his duty to his king; no matter what his feelings were.

When Aerys sent to go find Rhaegar they had been ordered to secure Lyanna Stark, if the girl was with him, and keep the girl secured. He along side his brothers' did just that. They searched for Rhaegar and protected the girl as their king commanded. He could not scream at Rhaegar for taking the girl, for hurting Elia, could not join his brothers in battle, no matter what he wished. How he had wished.

Though news at the Tower was infrequent, he knew he could not leave for any other Dornish city. He had been in Dorne and he could not look to his own family or friends, not when the reason why he was in Dorne was to protect that which was an insult to all Dornishmen. It disgusted him that he was sitting in a tower waiting with that Stark girl, as if he wanted to be there. He could barely look at her sometimes because in her face he kept seeing Elia and Ashara. When the others in the Tower spoke of the child his mind flew to the Keep where Rhaenys and Aegon waited, and the thought of his sister's then future child. Rhaegar might have not thought about who he had to answer to about why he had left, but, Arthur did and every possible answer was lacking.

Yes, he witnessed his friend change and started to do things which were so alarming and witnessed everything as their lives ripped apart. But, he was powerless to stop it, because it would have meant betraying his vows and that he could not do.

What he did was the only thing allowed for him to do: his duty. So he beside the girl, watching and waiting as her stomach swelled with the child, watched and waited throughout the war, and then watched and waited as she died, until it was no longer required for him to do so.

The cloak never weighed as heavily on him as it had then. He was a member of the Kingsguard. What else could he do? No matter how much tore at him, he was sworn.

His vows and his friendship with the former prince would not allow for him to disobey the king or speak against Rhaegar's actions and now, because of it, for Ashara and Elia, no matter how much they still loved him, his star had dimmed.

Most often he could ignore it, but, there were times like when he is in the company of Ashara and her polite, but, reserved betrothed or when sometimes Elia and Oberyn look at him, he can not help but think of friendships left changed because of his adherence to his vows and it pains him so thoroughly.

None of that resolves the more immediate problem and so he prompts, "When?"

"It happened the night she joined me in my father's old chambers. I could do nothing to stop it and nor had I seen such a thing."

"What happened?"

"That dream. I never saw her frightened." Arthur had never seen his friend look so furious, but, the slump of his shoulders spoke of defeat.

"I do beg your indulgence, but, what was it about?"

"Do you remember the first night we returned?"

At the abrupt change of topic Arthur could not help his confusion. "Yes, what of it?"

"Do you remember Ser Jaime reluctance and unease and their reactions to us, to me?"

Yes, the knight had been reserved and not particularly forthcoming and the memory of Princess Rhaenys' reaction to her father stood out. "Yes, what of it?"

"Do you remember him telling us that my father was unkind?" Arthur did remember, but, there was something odd in his friend's words, and Arthur detected the faintest hint of bitterness in his friend's voice, but, that was not important just yet.

"Yes I remember." Arthur felt his stomach dropping as his friend's expression became increasingly thunderous.

"It was more than accosting her at times. He was no less cruel to the children. Because of him, this was not the first time she had such dreams. The children used to have them as well."

Arthur swallowed. "Ah." What does one say to that?

Still, he prodded, slightly, "It must have been horrific to see that."

Looking at his friend's face, "I could do nothing, but, watch. If it had not been for…"

Rhaegar trailed off as Ser Jaime and the newest knight of the Kingsguard, Ser Lucas Corbray, were leading a trio of young, talking boys out to the practice field. Two of them were armed with fake swords while the third, a child much smaller in stature and with much less coordination, holding a book. Once the group saw them the approached the pair of now silent men.

Ser Jaime inclined his head and spoke first, "Your Grace, Ser Arthur."

Ser Lucas Corbray, on the other hand gave the same simple greeting his fellow knight did, but, his voice was filled with the awe which came from those unfamiliar with the Sword of the Morning and the King of Westeros. It seemed that the younger knight's expression was more earnest now that he was in front of his king and "brother". Showing the younger brother of the king how to use a sword was one thing, it was quite another when one was going to do it in front of the king.

Arthur mentally compared both of the knights greetings, and found that the tone of the slightly older knight's voice was duly respectful, but, even; and it only held slight warmth when introducing his younger brother to the pair and when prompting Prince Viserys and Lord Renly Baratheon into greeting him and the King. Arthur considers the serious and direct man in front of him and remembers the Jaime Lannister he knew who had joined the Kingsguard. Even if initiated in less than ideal circumstances Arthur remembers the then lad's eagerness and the idolization the knight had for his older "brothers". He wonders if it was simply his maturing or of his and the king's stars dimmed for the other knight just as it had for his sister and the Queen.

Observing the group, Rhaegar spoke first, "Ser Jaime, Ser Lucas." He gestured to the wooden swords in the two boys' hands. "Yet another sword lesson?" Arthur thought he imagined an undercurrent of something unusual in his king's voice.

"Quite right, Your Grace." Turning to the trio of boys, Ser Jaime spoke, "It seemed we were anxious to get started on one this morning, yes?" Prince Viserys and Lord Renly seemed eager enough, but when their gazes turned to Arthur and Rheagar the younger Targaryen looked rather anxious and the younger Baratheon turned rather solemn.

As if to distract himself from wondering why those expressions were on the faces of the two boys the King turned to the younger Lannister. "Lord Tyrion, will you not be joining them?" Though this child seemed eager enough to join the boys, and if Arthur recalled, some years older, he was not similarly armed.

"Father does not want me to try swords yet." The child shrugged. "I like reading more." That triggered the other boys rolling their eyes, but, the flat tone indicated truth and that the boy did not wish to be pressed. Arthur noticed the slight frown on the Lannister knight's resigned face which quickly disappeared; it seemed to be an old argument left unresolved. Still, the answer was rehearsed and Arthur could not decide of the Lord of Casterly Rock was being kind or cruel to his son by not allowing him other activities lads his age would be familiar with, even if it was to save the boy's pride. More likely, Arthur thought uncharitably, it was to protect Lord Tywin's own.

The uncomfortable silence was disrupted by Ser Corbray clearing his throat, voice over-cheerful. "It is best we get started then." Ser Jaime smiled at his newest brother, and nodded. "Quite. Your Grace, Ser Arthur." The knights nodded once more and went out to the field, herding the boys with them.

Arthur and Rhaegar stood for a while just to observe the scene playing out in front of them, as both Viserys and Renly were instructed and took jabs at each other when directed. Viserys being slightly older and having some more experience seemed more comfortable with the weapon in his hand, but, young Lord Renly, it seemed, would make a fine swordsman one day. Both of the boys became much more animated with just the two knights near them. Even young Lord Tyrion showed his age by putting his book aside and shouting out commentary once or twice.

Arthur heard his friend sigh aloud. He turned to his friend whose attention was directed at Ser Jaime as the knight ruffled the hair on Prince Viserys's head after he successfully disarmed Lord Renly.

Rhaegar finally spoke. His voice was so soft Arthur had to lean in closer. "Only he was able to calm her."

"What?" Arthur was so very confused.

"That night, after she woke from that dream, I stood there; however, he knew just how to calm her." He laughed; to Arthur it was the saddest sound he ever heard. "That night she flinched from me, but, he stormed in like a knight from a song and vanquished the dragon haunting her sleep."

Rhaegar turned to face him fully. "He even yelled at Ser Barristan who he felt was moving too slowly." Ordinarily that would have made Arthur laugh, but, nothing was humorous about this. Before Arthur could comment Rhaegar continued, "Once the Maester gave her something to return to sleep, he was the one to tell me what she dreamed about and what the children had dreamt about. He knew what to do because he was here and saw it all. Arthur you should have seen him sitting there recounting things that my family had seen in the day and in their sleep; the things my father had done and the things they should have been shielded from."

Trying to comfort his friend, Arthur ventured, "You could not have known."

"But, I did know what my father was like and did nothing about it while I had the chance."

"What could you have done, things being what they were? You bid Ser Jaime stay and care for your family; there were others here to protect them."

Rhaegar's voice was low and dangerous. "I foisted my duties onto someone else to fulfill and they still suffered for it." His voice was filled with self-recrimination.

Even knowing what it was like to wade in a sea of regrets, Arthur countered, "We were in the midst of a war. You could not have been here to protect them and fight at the same time."

Rhaegar hissed brokenly, "My father told her the only reason why did not treat her less cruelly was because no one would have cared enough; that I would not have cared enough."

Arthur could not find anything to say, if there was anything one could say to that. There was no doubt Aerys was cruel, but, this was something else.

After some time Rhaegar spoke again, "Before that night Elia and I were moving closer. We were almost happy again. One night in my father's old rooms turned that into dust."

Instead he says, "Well, if the dreams are infrequent and as you say the most likely reason for them is done away with there is no reason why that which was on the mend can not be fixed again."

Rhaegar nods, "You do have the right of that."

"If she will not come to you, you can always go to her." They shared a laugh.

"It will pass. I know it. Give it time."

"I hope you are correct." Rhaegar continued. "She refused to come to those chambers any more. That is why I changed my quarters again, I thought it would help."

Arthur remembered when Rhaegar had announced he would be switching to another set of chambers, that his father's old rooms had not suited him. Of course he was the king and so Arthur thought not much of it at the time; after all the rooms were particularly garish and the former king had died in those rooms. No, not died; killed himself. Thinking back to that moment, it made more sense. When the announcement was made Ser Jaime had been frowning though he tried to keep a stoic expression while Ser Barristan started to look very uncomfortable and, he kept surreptitiously glancing between the King and Ser Jaime. It seemed those two 'brothers' of his had known something, but, remained silent. Now he knew what caused it.

Looking back to where Ser Jaime was, Arthur spoke, "Neither Ser Jaime or Ser Barristan said anything to me."

Rhaegar smiled, though the smile held little mirth, "Ser Barristan is likely too confused himself and too hesitant to come to me for fear of overstepping his bounds. Ser Jaime, you see…"

"Your Grace?"

"He said he never said anything to protect her and the children."

"I am afraid I do not see how would have keeping this secret would have protected them."

"They both said before that night the dreams were all but gone for all of them; a thing of the past. If it was known what transpired here during the war, what they dreamed, it was a weakness which could be exploited. To keep whispers from growing, they thought it was preferable to let the matter rest. He said nothing because he was sworn."

Laughter almost bubbled from Arthur's throat. Somehow it always comes back to that. Looking at Ser Jaime again Arthur wonders if his "brother" felt his vows were easier to keep.

* * *

Once she puts her daughter down for a nap she opens the wardrobe in her chambers to pull out an ornate, but, tasteful new gown.

"Is this to your liking?" Lady Ashara Dayne gestured to the gown in her hands, presenting it to the man in her chamber's sitting room.

"Is it to yours?" Her betrothed's face would have been severe if there was not confusion in his countenance as well. She hoped to steadily decrease that severity; so far it was a very slow endeavor.

"I like it very much, but, I wish to have your opinion."

"Why? I will not be the one wearing it." Stannis's tone made it clear that he saw no purpose to this discussion, particularly if she liked the dress well enough.

"We are to be married."

Ashara fights back a smile as he frowns. "I fail to see how my opinion of a dress has to do with our marriage. I hope you do not intend on asking me every time you procure something."

Ashara could not help the laughter which bubbled out of her throat, but, it quickly subsided when she saw the expression on her betrothed's face. "No, no. this is the gown I intend to wear when we marry. I want to know what you think of it."

He let out sigh, which Ashara believed was undeserved. He ventured, "It is quite nice."

She smiled a bit. He was trying to be kind in his own way; still, he had been mostly silent. He always was terse, unless there was something which really affected him. This silence though, it was as if something was wearing at him. Fortunately for her Ashara knew exactly what.

"How was last night? When Lord Stark came to see Alya, he said they have prepared on taking their leave of King's Landing tomorrow; for the North." Ashara knew the topic would have seemed rather innocuous to anyone else however the last evening Stannis dined with Ned Stark. Given who they both were, the Starks would never be innocuous for either of them.

He frowned at her. "Yes, he did say they were leaving."

"What do you think of it?"

He shrugged. "I am rather shocked they stayed this long. We will leave soon enough as well, once we marry. Prince Oberyn and Lady Cersei will be marrying within the week, yes?"

"Yes, then the Septon will be we are free to marry to marry us. So tell me, what do you think of him?"

Confused, he asks, "Who? Prince Oberyn?"

"No, Lord Stark?"

Stannis stiffens slightly. After a minute he answers. "He seems to be an honorable man."

"All this time you have been in close proximity and that is all you can say?"

"We barely know each other. He was Robert's foster-brother; not mine."

"Certainly there is more to that?"

"I knew him as much as I knew Robert. That is to say not very much."

Ashara thought of the close relationships she had with both of her brothers. "What does that mean? You and Lord Robert were only one year apart in age."

Stannis started to grind his teeth slightly.

"Stop that." He actually stopped. Did wonders never cease?

He threw her a dark look, but, it held little heat. "Robert and I were never close. We were too different. Perhaps it was because he was the oldest or the heir, or perhaps we were too close in age. Then we watched as our parents died." He snorted in derision. "The last time I saw him before he…" A pause, "died was when I saw the back of him while he left for the Vale."

Ashara thought darkly that it seemed to her that the only reason Stannis refrained from saying 'was killed' was not because of where he was or that he feared the wrath of the king, but, rather that Robert died fighting in a war and therefore could not be said to have been killed.

Ashara was shocked as she registered the rest of what Stannis told her. "That was years ago. You never saw him in the intervening years?"

Stannis coughed, though in anyone else it would have seemed a humorless laugh, "Oh, we, that is Renly and I, received a few letters occasionally, but, no I never saw him before he died since he left for the Vale. Once Lord Arryn called the banners, Robert sent me a note. 'Keep Storm's End for me.'" He looked at her. "Now he is dead and Storm's End is mine." He shook his head.

"That is what Lord Stark and I tried to speak about yesterday, but, the both of us were not close as I said, so we spoke very little."

"What do you mean?"

"He spoke, or rather tried to somewhat, but, as I said we were not friends. Yes, we have Robert in common, but, it seems as though Robert was more a brother to Eddard Stark than he ever was to me." He shrugs, but, she thinks he is not as unaffected by that revelation as he seems to try to appear.

Stannis starts speaking again. "I do grant there are certain similarities…"

She smiled slightly, "How so?"

He looked uncomfortable, but, she wanted to know what he meant and he knew that. For all they still are rather formal it is strangely comforting that they know each other to some degree.

He turned away, but, still spoke. "The lives we have are what are brothers would have been had they both lived; although that is truer of Lord Stark than it is of me."

Ashara falls silent for a little while considering the matter. She could see why they both thought that way; both older brothers, Robert & Brandon, were handsome, bold charmers. She thought rather sadly, in the end they were also hotheaded and reckless and they died far too young. Stannis and Ned were polite, graver, and seemingly cold, but, Ashara found she learned to appreciate seriousness more.

"In what way was it truer for him?" She thinks he knows what he means, but, for some reason, she wants to hear him say it. He did not speak so she repeated the question.

He looked at her. "I am not marrying you to honor a promise made by a dead man."

Unable to resist trying to shock him she asks, "What of promises by men who are alive?"

He narrows his eyes, "I would not need to honor any such promise as you were not promised to anyone."

She smiles. "Then why are you marrying me?" She wants to know why he would even agree to marrying her. She liked that he could be truthful with her even if what he says lacks the charm she has been familiar with in the past. She knows theirs was not a romance out of song and he would likely laugh at such a notion; not with who she was and not with who he was. Still she enjoys being with him and he does not dislike her and she notices his eyes follow her some times.

"Why would I not want to marry you?" He would deflect the question by posing another.

"Because I am Dornish. Because I have a bastard daughter."

"Your heritage is immaterial. As for Alya, she did not spring from you alone. She is Brandon Stark's child as well. If you are guilty of that then so was he."

She smiles at how simple his philosophy is, how matter-of-fact. "But, he is dead, and most in Westeros still see it as my disgrace."

"You love her all the same. She is a pleasant enough child." It would not be a glowing recommendation from most others; from Stannis Baratheon that is high praise.

"Yes, I do and yes she is. Still it can not be easy; living with the whispers; that you would have to care for another man's bastard."

"Certainly you have not forgotten that I will be doing that even if I had not married you. As it is, I am an acknowledged traitor. There would have been whispers following me regardless of who I married."

Even if it is ungracious to think ill of the dead she takes a moment to curse the Mad King, who was the cause of most of this, though the rest of the blame lies with Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. She looked at Stannis sadly. "How can you consider yourself a traitor?"

"I betrayed my king. That does mean I am guilty of treason; even if it was because my brother asked it of me." Sometimes his world view is less than delightful even if there is truth in it. She muses it is that which makes others believe he is less than amiable. There were those amongst them who still held similar views, even knowing the old king's crimes. She, however, is not one of them.

"Aerys was a monster." Though, he knows it and she does not have to tell him that, she does it regardless.

"But, he was my king."

"He is gone."

"Yes, he is."

"Now there is Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name."

He tilts his head in confusion. "You say it as if you are not friends."

"I am better friends with Her Grace."

He blinks, as if seeing her for the first time. His demeanor is still grim when he says, "Ser Arthur joined the Kingsguard willingly; it only enhanced their friendship."

Thinking of her brother, Ashara silently acknowledges what Stannis says as true, but, it also makes her wonder what Stannis thinks of him. Most would say that was just the "Stormlord's" way, but, she had seen regular glimpses of warmth from him towards her and Alya, but, not many for Arthur. Stannis was always formal and distantly polite with him. She wonders some times if Stannis dislikes Arthur because of his friendship with the man who killed his brother; but, is unwilling to voice it because he deems it not his place and if it is partly because of her.

She and Arthur were not as close as they used to be and it was partly her fault. She knew she was being unfair to her brother, but, in the beginning Rhaegar's actions with the Stark girl caused her to not only be furious with Rhaegar, even though Elia told her not to bother, but, it also made her angry at her brother; particularly after Rhaegar left. This was definitely true after Brandon was killed and Arthur stayed away until the war ended and Westeros was safe again. She knew that his vows only allowed for so much loyalty to those who were not of the royal family, but, at the time it stung that he was more loyal to Rhaegar and Aerys then his own. She still loved him fiercely and she hoped he knew that.

Before she can say something more there is a knock on the door. Stannis goes to open it and it is Arthur with a ruddy cheeked Renly at his side.

Renly settles himself next to Ashara while Arthur moves to kiss Ashara on the cheek before he goes to sit down.

Stannis speaks first, though with a glance at Ashara first. "Ser Arthur, thank you for escorting my brother back."

Arthur smiles, though Ashara can see it is sort of uncomfortable. "It was nothing. I was at the practice field as it was." With a quick glance at Ashara before turning back to Stannis, Arthur says, "And it is just Arthur, you are to be my good-brother."

Stannis looks at him, before slowly responding, "Very well, Arthur." If Ashara was the type to beam, she would, but, she settles for a soft smile in their directions instead.

Stannis turns Renly, "How was your lesson?"

Renly, in his enthusiasm pipes up, rather proud, "I disarmed V-" Noticing the look forming on his brother's face he quickly amends, "Prince Viserys twice". If anyone took note of the stress the child put on the name no one mentions it, but Arthur and Ashara do share a smile.

Ashara says, rather proudly, "Very well done."

Renly faces his brother once more. "Prince Viserys was telling me he is also learning how to use the spear from Prince Oberyn. Do you think when we return to Storm's End, you could teach me to use the warhammer? I want to know how to use more than just one weapon."

The reference to Robert Baratheon's weapon of choice causes the adults stiffen, but, Stannis looks at his brother and sees an innocent expression. Stannis takes a deep breath and quickly looks to Arthur who stares back mildly as if the answer does not matter to him, before admitting, "I was always more comfortable with the sword, myself." Noticing his brother's eagerness slipping, he says, "But, I do not see why not."

Renly's cheerfulness at that pronouncement diffuses the slight tensions which previously rose.

Ashara comments, "If siblings were all the same, life would be quite uninteresting." It does not escape her notice that both Stannis and Arthur seem rather relieved at her pronouncement; though she thinks it is likely for different reasons.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I took the wedding vows and the Septon's proclamation from the third Sansa chapter in A Storm of Swords. The food items are from the Official Game of Throne's Cookbook "A Feast of Ice and Fire" & the Inn at the Crossroads: The official Game of Throne's food blog: www. innatthecrossroads .com (without spaces)
> 
> A/N: 2: During the ceremony the Septon will use the formal name for House Martell which is "House Nymeros Martell" because of ceremony; otherwise it'll simply be "Martell".

Rhaegar was quite certain he was being tested again. If not, then it was the Gods toying with him. He could find no other reason to explain why Lord Tywin thought it best to pester him because of some imagined offense done to him.

Even if he was surprised by the turn of events, what caused the lord of the Westerlands to be distressed was not some major catastrophe; at least it was not from his perspective. More importantly it was not of his doing or his concern. He was not party to the imagined slight; however, that did not stop Lord Tywin from seeking him out as if what occurred was a problem which needed to be rectified and it was his responsibility to see the matter along to a more favorable conclusion; as if being King was merely ceremonial and he nothing else better to do than insert himself into domestic disputes that should not concern him. In a way, he had done that once; it cost him too much. It cost the realm far more than it had him. He would not make that mistake again. He could not afford it.

Rhaegar snorted inelegantly. Lord Tywin Lannister was an intelligent man; that he did not foresee something may go against his expectations was his failing, not Rhaegar's. If it never occurred to the man what he was getting when he made the choice to arrange his daughter's marriage to Oberyn Martell that was his doing; not Rhaegar's. Lord Tywin Lannister would have to live with the consequences of his decisions. Gods knew Rhaegar had to do the same.

For good reason, he kept out of Oberyn's way; and so domestic quarrels between Lord Twyin and the Martells were not a matter for Rhaegar to solve. Yes, he was the King, and yes he was the man's good-brother; still, in no way did that make him Oberyn Martell's keeper. He certainly did not desire the task. He could dare much, had dared much, but, he does not have the fortitude for that. Rhaegar would have laughed at anyone who said he should try to shape Oberyn's behavior. Oberyn Martell did not just listen to anyone, and certainly not him. He knew he could not control Oberyn Martell; anyone with any sense knew it as well. While it was true that Oberyn could to come to heel if needed, the Gods knew Doran could not, or Rhaegar thought darkly, did not bother to try and curb Oberyn most days. Elia, too, indulged her beloved brother.

Though Oberyn's love for Elia tended to desist some of his less troubling activities; still, there had been something odd about Oberyn lately. He had been, well, not nicer, but, more civil to him of late. His words were less barbed and he was less sullen when it came to Jon or the Starks. At first Rhaegar did not want to question his good fortune, but, this was Oberyn after all; there had to be a reason for Oberyn's seemingly calm state. He then suspected it had to do with the Starks leaving for the North. Rhaegar rarely agreed with Oberyn, however, Rhaegar felt a burden lift when he realized he no longer would have Ned Stark's silent judgment haunting him.

If he was not so busy with business of the realm and trying to solidify his relationship with his own family, he would have tried to figure out what Oberyn was up to by his curious behavior, but, he was rather occupied. Even before Lord Tywin requested an audience, Rhaegar wondered if what happened today had something to do with Oberyn's love of needling him or was it the disconnect between the ways of the Dornish and the rest of the seven kingdoms. Then again, whatever the reason, today's events distressed Lord Tywin to the point where the Lord of Casterly Rock thought it would be best to annoy him about it; as if he could correct that which offended the man when the man should direct his ire towards his daughter's good-family or that the circumstances changed in any meaningful way.

Of course, Rhaegar though sourly, he was fairly certain Doran encouraged Oberyn in some ways; however this did not reek of Oberyn's machinations. Careful consideration and polite insults, which Rhaegar was not quite certain this was, seemed to be more in line with Doran's ways than Oberyn's.

He was perfectly aware that Doran would be more seemingly agreeable, but, Rhaegar knew both of the Martell brothers detested him and he was not going to pretend that they lacked reason to. He had sat through enough meals with the Ruling Prince to feel Doran was observing him keenly; especially when Elia was with them or if he happened to be with the children. But, this was not about Doran; no, Oberyn was why Tywin Lannister pestered him; or rather it was something related to Oberyn that bothered the lord.

It certainly was not his fault that the Martells had their own plans for Oberyn's wedding or Lady Cersei was more agreeable than her father, particularly where "propriety" was concerned. While he had not been expecting untoward from the Martells, how he wished he had known what they were up to. It would have allowed him some time to consider the ways he could contend with Lord Tywin's indignation.

To be sure, this morning was progressing relatively well when their party including himself, Elia, Viserys, his two good-brothers, and the Lannisters, including Ser Jaime, were awaiting the Dornish contingent. It was all smiles and platitudes, and, well, detached politeness from Lord Tywin, when with Princess Mellario stepped down from her carriage with the young Princess Arianne behind her. It was all well when a nurse holding Doran’s second child, and first son, Prince Quentyn, stepped out of the wheel-house and the appropriate attention was paid to Prince Doran’s youngest child. After the members of the Martell brood were accounted for, out of the wheel-house another woman stepped; this one also holding a baby. This confused him as much as it had most others. Before he could question anything, or look to Princess Mellario in askance, three young girls of varying ages came barreling out of the wheel-house of their own accord. All three girls looked somewhat different, but, some of their features showed that they shared some blood. A brief glance towards the baby in the second nurse’s hands showed the child to have certain similarities with respect to the hair; dark hair characteristic of the current crop of Martells. The gleeful look on Oberyn’s face when the girls looked in the prince’s direction clearly showed exactly who the girls were. Oberyn’s bastard daughters arrived in King’s Landing. 

Truthfully, he mostly forgot about them. He never met any of them, nor had he a particular reason to. Yet, he had recalled, Elia saying to him once Oberyn's girls resided with him. He was not expecting to see them now, but, since the girls were here already and it would keep Oberyn relatively pleasant, he would not argue it.

He looked to Elia who shrugged back and she returned her attention where Oberyn was interacting with his daughters, smiling softly. She had not known. He almost smiled at that. Even if their relationship was not fixed completely, it heartened him to know she did not keep things such as this from him.

He was happy with that realization; however, his elation was reduced when his gaze fell to where Lord Tywin was standing. Tywin Lannister's expression was cold; much colder than usual. Though the man had not said anything, Lord Tywin's face was stiff and angry, if one knew what to look for. Rhaegar looked to Lady Cersei, by her father's side, to see what she thought of this and found her reaction far different from her father's was.

Tywin Lannister stayed silent while Oberyn introduced his young daughters to a rather captivated Cersei, but, his stance showed all that he was less than enthused by this development. He was far less enthused when Lady Obara, looked at Lady Cersei, as if sizing up and asked Lady Cersei if she ever held weaponry while Oberyn's second daughter Lady Nymeria asked if she liked riding horses. Lady Cersei seemed to find this utterly charming as she even ever so carefully kept her eyes trained on the girls, easily saying she liked riding well enough, and yes, she had held weaponry, but, unfortunately not recently. Lady Sarella Sand, at least Rhaegar was sure that was her name, was much too young to an opinion, but, Lady Tyene Sand nodded approvingly. At least Lady Cersei would not lament about being taken unawares of the circumstances which she will be faced with when she finally makes her way to Dorne.

While the girls peppered the lady with questions, with the Martells looking on amusedly and indulgently, Lord Twyin kept quiet; dangerously so. However, in that moment Rhaegar was rather relieved that Lady Cersei could adjust to Dornish ways, seeing as Oberyn's daughters and betrothed were seemingly satisfied with one another.

Rhaegar saw as Jaime Lannister, though he tried to hide his humor, looked fit to burst from this all, particularly when Lady Cersei explained her familiarity with certain weapons. Rhaegar mused there must be quite a story in that. Oberyn also seemed to know his betrothed's brother found this absolutely comical and looked at him questioningly to which Ser Jaime shook his head as if indicating he would tell him later what that was about. Doran seemed to find some humor in that exchange as well, but, Lord Tywin sent a long, considering look in his children's direction.

Rhaegar could have rejoiced in knowing someone else would never be free of Oberyn Martell and Jaime Lannister's antics, but, then Lord Tywin asked, no, demanded, it felt to Rhaegar, a private audience.

While his father may have been mad and cruel, it is times like these which made him consider his father's infrequent moments of lucidity. It was Rhaegar now knew what his father had thought about Lord Tywin rather aggravating willingness to overreach.

* * *

Rhaegar was quite sure of what the other man wanted to speak about; however, Rhaegar wanted to be prepared for anything the other man may say to him.

A few moments before his guest was set to join him Rhaegar ruminated on the fact that he had not interacted with Lord Tywin too frequently. Even before the war he had very little knowledge about how to interact with the man outside of mere civility. Even his son could or did not offer much insight, offering only that before his father's arrival in King's Landing for the coronation, they had not spoken for years. When pressed, Ser Jaime, though clearly reluctant to say much, did say, "My lord-father is acutely aware of his duty to the family. He is also a hard man, but, not harder than he has to be." There seemed to be something more to the words, but, Ser Jaime would say nothing else and truthfully Rhaegar had not expected him to say much. He could trust Ser Jaime to guard his life, offer council when asked, even with his wife's dreams, but, this man was not the type to overly concern himself with wanting to be in King's confidences.

When Lord Twyin arrived, Rhaegar saw to it that they would be left alone in Rhaegar's Solar alone though Ser Jaime was guarding the door. Rhaegar knew it would be best for the other man to speak what was on his mind. "My Lord Tywin, you require something of me?"

"Prince Oberyn's children." Not one wasted movement or word. Rhaegar would have been in awe of the ability of the other man to be direct except the feeling was tempered by the annoyance of his earlier thoughts about the other man coming to fruition.

Rhaegar hoped the other man was not insulted to the point where he was considering breaking the betrothal; Oberyn would be unbearable and Doran would likely seethe at yet another insult Rhaegar could have prevented.

If he was being honest with himself, Rhaegar could not fathom what this lord was bothered about; Lady Cersei clearly had not minded their presence. He remembered Doran and Mellario looked rather pleased at Lady Cersei's reaction as had Oberyn. While matters related to Oberyn's children do not concern him, Rhaegar would not be unappreciative that the Martells had not argued about Jon being present at his coronation and so he could not argue with the Martells bringing the children with them.

Rhaegar, for his part, simply shrugged. Even if he was surprised at the presence of Oberyn's girls, it mattered not to him. "Yes, it was quite a surprise. I suppose it is rather quaint." Tywin Lannister stared at him for some moments and while the man's expression showed nothing, it was then that Rhaegar recognized the other man likely believed he was being dismissive.

"Quaint?" Lord Tywin's voice was low. There was curiosity there, but, the voice had a dangerous quality to it. It was as if it he felt it preposterous anyone, much less, Rhaegar should find the idea quaint and he required something more from his king, because the response he was given was utterly unacceptable.

He elaborated for the benefit of the other man, but, did not have any great feeling about the affair. "I do suppose it is rather quaint for my good-brother's children to be present for the wedding of their father. I believe he is rather fond of them. It is known they live with the Prince as well." Oberyn being happy and distracted is a blessing Rhaegar could not find an argument against. Lord Tywin, on the other hand, seemed to take it for the noncommittal response it was; one which relayed enough of truth, but, still it seemed as though the other man was less than pleased.

"Was Your Grace expecting them to be here for the wedding?" Now this approach of the topic Rhaegar found quite darkly amusing; not that he would remark on it. The man wanted to see if he was a party to this supposedly intended slight, as if Rhaegar wanted to invite more trouble for himself over something like this.

"I was not sent word of their coming. Her Grace had not known either. It must have been decided shortly before the Martells were set to leave Dorne." Rhaegar does not know if this was planned or not, and he could truly not find it in him to care. In Dorne, it was not that uncommon for bastard children to be accepted as within the family for certain circumstances and the groom's family was Dornish. Oberyn was proud of his family; all in Westeros and, even likely, many in Essos knew of that.

"Oh?"

Rhaegar shrugged again, hopefully indicating he wished to be done with this, soon. "Prince Doran and Princess Mellario must have thought it appropriate to not leave children of their young age in Dorne, if the rest of the family would be here as well. I can not disagree with the sentiment."

Rhaegar did not know the reasons the Sands were brought to King's Landing, and if he was any sort of other man he would have felt it low of him to attribute something to someone without proof, yet the Martells would have had their own reasons for doing as they had. Doran did not believe in acting recklessly. Of course the argument he presented to Lord Tywin did seem like a logical one. For all he and Oberyn felt differently about most things he knows Oberyn did love his children and would have wanted his children present at his wedding and the Martells would act to see Oberyn happy.

As it was, for some time after he returned seeing how Rhaenys shied from him while Aegon grew not truly knowing him, with Viserys finding others to fulfill the void left behind by their father's death, and Rhaegar's being gone even before Daenerys and Jon were born, Rhaegar had felt like a failure as a father. Still, even he knew leaving multiple children unsupervised at all with only servants and no family of any sort for company rarely makes for ideal circumstances. During the war he used to tell himself it was a comfort most his family was together in King's Landing, while Lyanna had been at the Tower, but, knowing she died and what it was like in King's Landing, it stopped being a delusioned sense of comfort some time ago.

None of that was relevant to the matter at hand. Seeing Lord Tywin examine him shrewdly, he decided to give a simple response. "Prince Oberyn seemed to appreciate the gesture."

"They are his baseborn children." Now Rhaegar fought the urge to laugh. Though Lord Tywin was not such a man, Oberyn is hardly the first man to have baseborn children. Still, he, of all people, could hardly take Oberyn to task about including bastard children in family events. Even if it was not his intention, and even Jon was legitimized, his own youngest son was baseborn in the eyes of the Seven and the kingdom all the same.

He does not say what he thought, but, he does raise an eyebrow. "My good-brother has never before been married. He could only have baseborn children and it is his wedding." Tywin Lannister, if not everyone else, knows this. He says this in the driest tone he could manage, as if to indicate the subject bores him. It is the truth and the subject does bore him; more importantly it makes him decidedly uncomfortable and he wishes to be done with Lord Tywin.

"It is not only Prince Oberyn's wedding." He hears the unspoken, 'What will people think when they see the daughter of Tywin Lannister's being married with her husband's bastard children present?'

Thinking of his own recent coronation where Jon was present for all and sundry to see when neither Elia nor her brothers objected, even though they would have had the right to react negatively Jon's presence, causes a distinct lack of sympathy in Rhaegar for Lord Tywin.

Rhaegar straightened his spine just a bit and looked at the other lord squarely. "Of course it is. It was quite heartening to see Lady Cersei was rather charmed by them."

The other lord senses the truth in that, but, moves to say more, likely more terse words, but, Rhaegar cuts him off, jaw clenched. "It is just as well that she meets and become accustomed to her betrothed's family before they wed, even if that family does include baseborn children. Not many ladies, even those of good breeding are as blessed as that." The visions of Elia, Lyanna, and Jon hang in his mind.

Evidently thinking similarly, Lord Tywin changed his tact. "Did you not think, Your Grace, they were rather impertinent."

Rhaegar fought not to roll his eyes and if he was the type of man who laughed frequently he would have had to fight vigorously to keep the laughter out of his face. "They are children, my Lord Lannister and they simply wished to know Lady Cersei." Rhaegar thought, 'A lord with only impertinent children as their only problem is a blessed lord, indeed'.

Seeing that the man wished to interject yet again, Rhaegar sighed. "Lord Tywin, you and I both are aware the Dornish are rather unique in many ways, particularly where their children's are concerned, regardless of the child being born legitimate or baseborn."

The man nodded accepting the truth, but, was clearly still unhappy. Rhaegar getting nowhere with the conversation and rightly tired of it, felt it best to end the matter quickly and this required quick mollification. Ser Jaime's seemingly inadequate response actually proved to be of use. "I think Lady Cersei would do well with them. As you say they are in need of a good influence and she charmed them so. Of course I think such an experience would prepare her well with her own future children; legitimate princes and princesses of Dorne." He decided to leave Lady Cersei's having answered all of the children's questions positively, alone; instead highlighting the lady's abilities and Oberyn's position.

The other man had sat for a moment, looking, searching for something. Eventually, he nodded just the once. Soon after, the Warden of the West left, and was likely feeling unsatisfied, but, unwilling to show more of it. None-the-less Rhaegar felt the man would not break the betrothal when it was plain there would be nothing to gain from doing so.

Once alone Rhaegar reflected on Lord Tywin's viewpoint and his refusal to intercede on the matter of weddings and bastards. Even if he wished it, and he had not, Rhaegar would not have capitulated to Lord Tywin's wishes; not at this time, not on this.

He was King because it was his right, but, he can not dismiss how close fortune came to fail him in that regard; because he failed to act as a King aught. Though most accepted him as the King, he just knew it was because for them, there was no other choice even if his rule was built on the less than the strongest of foundations.

By virtue of his birth it was his right to be king once his father passed on. Still, while his father lived he had not acted as an heir should. Though not many knew of it, he had planned on deposing his father. Even if it would have been the best for the realm, to do so would be something inconceivable to most. Even if his subjects would have felt some relief at his actions; they would have seen the action as dereliction of his duty; both as a subject of the realm and a son. They might have accepted it, but, it had been those thoughts which stayed his hand the first time and even now it fills him with regret.

He compounded his error when he failed to adhere to his duty to others when he focused on fulfilling prophecies rather than focusing on the responsibilities which he had to the rest of his family and by disregarding the interests of the lords who would acknowledge him as their king.

He thought back to when Viserys asked questions about Lord Robert. Lyanna had been Lord Robert's betrothed and for him that had not mattered to him because he needed Lyanna, wanted her, and perhaps even loved her. Though it ceased to matter now that both of them died, she had not been his to take; certainly not from the man who had her father's blessing, even if she had not wanted to be Robert's wife and perhaps saw herself as in love with him. It was his failing to see that it should have mattered then and it had not. His failure to adhere to the wishes of Lord Rickard, and ignoring the prevailing conventions of Westeros lead to so much damage and to the deaths of so many. Because of his impulsive actions in the past, Rhaegar knew he had to consider every action undertaken with him in the role of King must be to be chosen carefully.

But, to involve himself with this could give rise to the idea that Lord Tywin could control his behavior and he can not allow it. He could not and will not give in to Lord Tywin for this; if only to save himself from other's making another comparison between himself and his father with respect to dependency on Tywin. As it was, if he had capitulated, he doubted Lord Tywin would have any respect for him.

Even if he had no fear of seemingly losing his standing he had other, more personal, concerns as well. Rhaegar's face formed a deep grimace. It was mostly true the Dornish were more flexible when it came to bastards and paramours though it was certainly not always true. He sighed; pointing that out to Tywin Lannister would not have been helpful, particularly given what Tywin Lannister had done to his father's mistress after the death of Lord Tytos.

Still, in this matter Lord Tywin had the advantage; as he said to the Lord of Casterly Rock, none of these girls would be rivals for any future legitimate children his daughter would give the Dornish prince. Tywin Lannister would have to learn and accept that the Sand children will be at the wedding; moreover, when it came to the ways of Dornishmen, he had to accept Rhaegar could do nothing about what happened without him seeming, at the least, unreasonable.

The Dornish found no fault with having paramours or bastards, but, to clearly favor one's paramour over one's spouse no Dornishman would abide. He inwardly flinched; the Dornish had long memories. To any Dornishman, Jon was not a typical bastard. To Dornishman he was an insult and a rival for their princess's children's legacy; the same way they had viewed his involvement with Lyanna as an insult to their princess and his wife.

Rhaegar knew the Dornish looked less favorably on his "bastard" even if Doran Martell never spoke to him harshly about it and did not rage at him for Jon's placement in the royal household; though if Elia would have asked her brother to intercede on her behalf there is no doubt in Rhaegar's mind Doran and Oberyn would have been disastrously unpleasant. Even with the succession secured so if anything untoward happened, Viserys would follow Aegon, the Dornish nobility would still be uneasy with him.

Naturally, having a role in excluding Oberyn's children from the wedding would show him to be unduly cruel seeing as they were already present in King's Landing. Moreover no Dornishman would keep silent on this matter, even if they would not spit curses at him publicly.

Saying something, anything truly, much less taking Tywin Lannister's part, on this matter would be more trouble for him than it is worth. His trying to rebuild a relationship with Elia was going painstakingly slowly, and the last thing he need was to tell Elia, or her brothers for that matter, Lord Tywin found something objectionable with their ways and given what he had done he agreed with Lord Tywin. Judging by Lord Tywin's reaction he had not liked Rhaegar's pronouncement, but, he would accept it.

He was thankful Lord Tywin was his only contrary lord in his proximity that he had contend with. Lord and Lady Stark and the rest of the Northern brood left for the North and Rhaegar could feel a weight lift over the court at that. Then again, perhaps it was just a bit of the weight lifted off of his shoulders. Even after the Northmen were gone the word 'Stark' was always mentioned in whispers and certainly not to him unless absolutely necessary. Even after he and Lord Ned had that talk they had been uncomfortable with each other. He doubted they would ever be comfortable in each other's proximity; no matter how many letters would be exchanged in the near future. As it was the other lord Rhaegar felt uncomfortable around, Lord Stannis Baratheon would be gone from King's Landing taking his Ashara and his men with him.

* * *

**Some days later.**

That the High Septon himself was presiding over the festivities showed that this wedding was to be something important. Then again, for the large gathering of esteemed and exclusive guests at the Great Sept of Baelor, celebrating the wedding of Prince Oberyn of Dorne and Lady Cersei Lannister, the daughter of the former Hand and Lord of Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister, was something of note and deserved to be celebrated fully.

While they waited for the bride make her entrance the majority of the audience's attention was focused towards to where the groom waited with the High Septon. At the end of the hall the High Septon stood tall and austere, but, seemed proud and eager to do his part all the same. Facing him was Prince Oberyn of Dorne. Most thought the Prince, unique as his Martell looks were, with his dark hair and black eyes, cut quite the striking figure because of his height and his stature. His style of dress, his doublet being a dark orange, the color of burnt sand, with brown breeches, suited him quite well.

Moving one's eyes away from the groom and towards the audience, given the identity of the groom, sitting in the front, naturally, were the King and Queen. The King looked majestic wearing all black with gold at the collar and at the cuffs while the Queen looked lovely in a gown of deep red overlaid with black Myrish lace. Though they were dressed finely it was obvious to those who those who had a fine eye that they dressed so they would not overshadow the groom and bride; though the bride and her father had not made their entry into the Sept just yet. With the King and Queen sat the younger brother of the King, Prince Viserys, and the Princess Rhaenys; both of whom, even at their ages, were dressed as befitting the occasion and their rank. None of the other royal children were present for the occasion.

The Queen's other brother; the Ruling Price of Dorne was also present with his wife and children. All of them were dressed, in the warm Martell colors. Sitting with Prince Doran & his family there were a few girl children of different ages, but clearly not of Prince Doran's get, but, given their proximity to the Royal family and the Martells one could see that the girls were family to the Martells.

It occurred immediately to some rather intelligent individuals who they were and there was some shock there were differing opinions at this development. Some thought it charming because the girls dressed appropriately, were well behaved, and seemed genuinely happy about the goings on. To be sure there were some who looked on incredulously; sniffing derisively, even if they were stunned, that the Dornish had always been odd. Some reacted to their shock by looking around at others so that the rest of the audience could offer some insight into how they should react.

Others immediately looked to were the bride's family was, only some of the audience had gotten distracted when they took in the appearance of Tywin Lannister's youngest child; the dwarf, Tyrion. It was a shock to see how he looked, but, it was also a shock to see the lad as it was said he seldom left Casterly Rock. Some had known the lad had been in King's Landing and that he joined in young Prince Viserys' company at times; however, very rarely was Lord Tywin's youngest seen in public.

Once the audience recovered from the shock they remembered their purpose in looking in the family's direction to gauge their reaction at the presence of Prince Oberyn's children only there were so many of them in attendance, it served no purpose to try and gleam their thoughts on the matter. All the Lannister's looked formal and none of their expressions gave much of anything away. Given the lack of reaction most surmised the Lannisters have been made aware of the girls' presence and were prepared to see them at Sept. Given that, many in the audience began to speculate internally what the Lannisters had thought about Oberyn's bastard children being present. Some could not fathom why the Lannisters accepted it, or even if they disliked it but put a brave face on it. Some were of the opinion that if the Lannisters believed it truly objectionable then the wedding would not have occurred; betrothals be damned. Some believed that while it was all-too-shocking, believed the Lannisters would not be bothered if it meant a daughter of their house would be a princess and the future mother of princes.

Still, for some, it was said often that Lord Kevan Lannister had not had a thought which Lord Tywin had before him, and Lord Kevan seemed to take the presence of Prince Oberyn's bastards in stride and therefore Lord Tywin must have accepted the presence of Prince Oberyn's daughters magnanimously. If Lord Tywin Lannister accepted it, then they should follow suit. Once that realization set in and that knowing that whatever their reactions to the fact were they were not going to voice any objections if the bride's family was not, most of the audience's concentration shifted to the others present for the wedding.

Aside from the bride and grooms families there were also other prominent lords and ladies. Lord and Lady Dayne of Starfall were in attendance having recently arrived themselves. Next to them were Lord Stannis Baratheon, his younger brother, Lord Renly, and his betrothed Lady Ashara Dayne, and her daughter Lady Alya. It was rumored, mostly in titters, that the Stormlord and the Dornishwoman were marry later in the week though this wedding was to be larger and more festive. Much to the chagrin of quite a handful of men, in particular, there was to be no bedding after that ceremony and it was the intended groom's wishes!

All the small council, were in attendance; including the Hand of the King, Lord Arryn, who attended with his lady wife. Rounding out the wedding party were three members of the Kingsguard: the Lord Commander, Gerold Hightower; friend to both the groom and the king, Ser Arthur Dayne; and brother to the bride, Ser Jaime Lannister.

Soon enough, the bride came in on the arm of her father. The bride looked resplendent in a Lannister red gown, with golden accents, made of Pentoshi silk, wearing a necklace of gold. Framing her body was her red and maiden cloak with the lion of her house embroidered up on the center of it.

Once they made it to where the groom was waiting, Lord Lannister let her arm go and she clasps the one offered to her by the Prince and the pair smile at one another. The ceremony begins with the prayers to the Seven delivered by the eager High Septon followed by prayers to bless the couple. The High Septon, then, leads singing of certain appropriate hymns.

While watching the ceremony progress, Rhaegar noticed Elia starting to look rather wistful; her gaze never wavered from the events going on in front of her. He had wondered if she had been thinking of their wedding and if she remembered it fondly. She must have because she smiled at him and unbent enough to take his hand when he silently touched her hand with his; only he would not think to ask her when they were in public and he certainly never asked before.

Thinking back to their wedding; truthfully, the procedure had predominantly been similar to the one they were a party to on this day; however, with theirs everything more opulent because his father would accept no less, and, of course, the cloak he put around Elia's shoulders was different. However, unlike Cersei and Oberyn, they were not granted the privileged of knowing each other well before they were to wed.

Once the hymns were sung it was time to change the cloak on Lady Cersei's shoulders. Lord Tywin reaches to unclasp the cloak his daughter is wearing and removes the cloak and drapes it over one arm. Prince Oberyn takes the richly appointed orange, velvet cloak with the red Dornish sun in his hands and drapes it over his bride's shoulder with a bit of a playful flourish.

Seeing that, Rhaegar silently exhales a breath; as far as he remembered, he affixed Elia's cloak rather mechanically. When he married, he approached it as a duty for him to perform because his position required it and because it was something which needed doing for his dreams to be realized. He is aware that his being a melancholic sort of man had been said of him; even in childhood. When Elia had been an ideal enough bride for him, as lovely and kind as she was, he had not been happy at his own wedding; certainly not as happy as Oberyn seems to be. While it was true most highborn individuals are not expected to be happy in their alliances masquerading as marriages, but, he can not say he was particularly unhappy in his marriage with Elia.

He looks away from the happy couple now sharing their secret smiles. Even when he attempted to marry Lyanna, in between the flashes of admiration, love, madness, there was mostly prophecy and duty. He came to realize how much of a folly it was. Naturally going to Dorne was reckless, even more than simply taking into account what the Dornishmen would have felt about it. It was true there was strategy in going to a rather impregnable Dorne; neither Aerys nor Lord Rickard would have been able to send so many men after them until the marriage would have been an accomplished fact. Only, the Tower of Joy had been in the middle of the unforgiving Dornish desert and the advantages of the desert did not outweigh the disadvantages.

The High Septon droning on about the duties and responsibilities of those bound in marriage causes his concentration to break for a moment. The Septon.

Rhaegar swallows deeply. His search for a Septon in Dorne had been a farce from the beginning. Lyanna, being of the North as she was, would have been perfectly to take their vows before a Heart-tree with a few witnesses, only there were no weirwood trees in Dorne; much less in the desert surrounding the Tower of Joy and the witnesses, even those sworn to him would have frowned upon it. He, himself, did not keep the Old Gods and even in the frenzied state he was in, he knew no one in the South would accept such a marriage; not when he was married with healthy children and Lyanna, as young as she was, was betrothed to a well-liked high-lord. Even if there was precedence with Targaryen kings who married more than one woman, those relationships were always with women who were relations and Lyanna was certainly not related to neither to himself nor Elia. All of that just shows how unapologetically thoughtless he had been.

The High Septon voice gives him welcome respite. The High Septon now prompts Cersei and Oberyn to say their vows.

Cersei speaks first and vows, "With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband."

Oberyn, just as eagerly, returns, "With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife."

For Rhaegar who wishes the wedding ceremony would just end, it seems as though the kiss they share lingers for longer than appropriate. Only, now watching as his good-brother and his new wife kiss, he fells Elia's hand begin to slip from his and he reflexively clutched at it tighter, not letting it go. He can do nothing about Lyanna's wedding and marriage that never was, but, this one, he intends to save.

At the gesture Elia turns towards him in askance, which he returns with a slight shake of his head, a gentle squeeze of her hand, and a nod in the Septon's direction.

Once the vows were exchanged the High Septon, pleased expression on his face, proclaimed, "I do solemnly proclaim Oberyn of House Nymeros Martell and Cersei of House Lannister to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them."

At the pronouncement the Dornishmen looked positively jubilant. While most Lannister's looked on formally, if content, some remarked, rather pleased, Ser Jaime looked positively elated at his sister's good fortune. The rest of the audience is cheerful. Rhaegar wishes it was not amongst his duties to attend these weddings.

* * *

The wedding feast which was held shortly after was intended to be a grand one; fit for a prince and princess. Of course given that the groom was a Prince and the Dornish are known for having lively fete's it would be so. Lord Tywin Lannister, it is said, for the wedding of his only daughter, would have it no other way.

The first courses included the soup course which consisted of oxtail soup and a seafood stew and also salads of different types. Following that, the esteemed guests feasted on roast pork, lamb, and quail meat dipped in butter, and potted hare. For those brave enough, there was also the Dornish staple, grilled snake complete with a fiery mustard sauce. There were also a collection of breads, cheeses, and fruits offered to complement the rest of the food offered.

The guests also treasured the freely flowing wine and enough drinks to satisfy any and all sorts of palate. Taking into account both the bride and grooms respective homelands there were copious amounts of Dornish sour reds and dreamwine and Arbor gold from the Westerlands.

In addition there were wines from Essos, such as the Lyseni whites and reds and Pentoshi ambers. There was also various beers and ciders for the guests to enjoy and if one looked about the hall one could see that the effort to make this available was very much appreciated.

There were also various amusements to entertain the audience. Singers from King's Landing, Lannisport and Sunspear were employed. Most of crowd thoroughly enjoyed a rendition of _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ , though to be frank, Lord Tywin was less than pleased at the bawdy song selection, but, the Dornishmen seemed to enjoy it in his stead. There were also jugglers and a troupe of mummers who put on quite an entertaining show.

From the raised table Rhaegar looked to Lord Tywin seated near him, as he had done repeatedly throughout the night. He was quite relieved; while Lord Tywin had not smiled once today, that he had not was hardly surprising, but, the lord had not seemed displeased at the arrangements.

Soon enough, amidst the revelry, shouts rang out in multiple places about the hall calling for the bedding to begin. Shortly thereafter the shouts grew louder and more insistent. As such, the bride, who put a rather brave face on it, and the amused groom sitting at the raised dais with the King and Queen were separated by two groups of people, laughing and telling coarse jokes, who were perfectly happy to herd the bride and groom out of the hall so that they could eagerly begin stripping the comely couple of their clothing.

After the bride and groom were all but dragged out the hall, lively music was started again so that the rest of the audience could dance and drink well into the night.

Rhaegar looked to Elia and extended his hand to her with the intention of dancing. To say she is shocked would be an understatement, but, she recovers quickly and her smile is bright.

She spoke first. "It went quite well, do you not think?"

Remembering his thoughts from the wedding, he nods, but, from her expression, it seems she desires a verbal answer. He keeps it brief, "Yes, it has." Despite his lack of enthusiasm for the whole affair the wedding festivities were quite well put together.

She leans in closer, and his eyes widen slightly, "It seems it went well enough, even for Lord Tywin." She laughs slightly; he wishes he could join her in merriment.

"Small mercies I suppose." He frowns at her. "I never said he was unhappy with the wedding."

She smiles, but, shrugs, as she speaks to him in a low voice. "Lord Tywin is rarely happy with much about anything, especially Martell eccentricity. I imagine it was quite the surprise Doran gave him."

His lips twitched, "It was Doran's doing then?"

"Doran rarely does anything without thinking long about it and Oberyn was happy seeing his girls." Much to his internal frustration she sounds adoring when speaking about her brothers. She continues, "I hope Lord Tywin did not cause you much grief. I was rather surprised he wanted to speak to you about my brother's girls."

"Yes, it was surprising; however, what is done is done." There truly was no reason to speak more about it. He certainly has no desire to discuss it.

"Yes, quite."

He keeps his concentration on their steps as they dance. He does not want to speak much unless it gives her a chance to reminisce too much about their wedding; it would do more harm than good, but, remembering causes him to hold her more closely.

They danced together some more before Ser Jaime, resplendent in white, cut in saying something about losing his usual dancing partner to which Elia, in Rhaegar's opinion, found much too much humor in as she let go of his hand and cheerfully took the knight's.

Rhaegar deciding he does not want to dance any more, swiftly goes to sit back down lest some one accost him for "the pleasure of his arm" just in time to overhear Doran mediate the tail end of a rather contentious debate occurring between his younger brother and Doran's girl.

"Arianne, my daughter, at least for the first dance you must let the Prince lead. Perhaps after, you can take turns. It would do well to look like a gracious guest." One look quells the stubbornness growing on the girl's expression, but, his brother seems downright cheerful at the prospect of being vindicated before another look from Doran sends the children running to join in on the dancing.

Rhaegar thinks perhaps Lord Tywin did have the right of it when discussing the Martells and their ease in making things difficult. "Must I even ask?"

Doran's expression gives nothing away as he calmly states, "Children can be quite headstrong; particularly those of rank who are acutely aware of their position."

Rhaegar takes a drink of wine as he tries not to think more deeply on the meaning the statement could potentially contain; however, this was Doran. Doran, who rarely keeps the counsel of others; who can be just as frustrating as his younger brother. It truly wears on the nerves; one of his wife's brothers can speak too plainly and the other one chooses never to. "Is that so?"

Doran shrugs, keeping his attention on the two children, "Prince Viserys wanted to dance; or rather show his prowess at it. My daughter was insistent she leads. It is uncommon here and the Prince had said so. Naturally their differences would have lead to a public argument and we can ill afford that. She will follow me one day, but, she aught to learn things are different outside of Dorne and rudeness would not do."

Though neither Doran's gaze nor the tone of his voice shift, Rhaegar observes that in his line of sight there is Princess Mellario looking on approvingly in their daughter's and Viserys' direction and Lord Tywin conversing with Elia, both no doubt speaking carefully with one another. Rhaegar tears his gaze away to look at the children again.

He remembers hearing of Lord Tywin's rudeness when Elia and Oberyn sojourned to Casterly Rock, when the former Ruling Princess sought to arrange her children's wedding with the Lannister twins. Rhaegar's thoughts during the wedding come back to him as well.

Seeing both Princess Arianne's and Viserys' now, distinctly not put-upon expressions and he straightens his spine. He replays Doran's words mentally and he frowns, but, does not look towards Doran; he does not want to know what, if anything, he would see on his good-brother's expression.

Keeping his gaze forward, Rhaegar wonders if having Oberyn's bastards at Cersei's wedding was the price of Lord Tywin's previous rudeness and if his brother will be the price for Rhaegar's rudeness of taking Lyanna to Dorne and legitimizing her son. Rhaegar spends the rest of the night watching as dancing and revelry goes about him; however he can not remember any of it.

* * *

The wedding of Lord Stannis Baratheon to Lady Ashara Dayne was decidedly more intimate than the wedding of Prince Oberyn Martell and Lady Cersei Lannister. The more unkind individuals dismissed it as smaller; less important. Of course, a wedding between a High Lord, in his own right, and the daughter and the sister of one would not, under typical circumstances, be dismissed less important; however, the circumstances of this wedding were hardly typical.

While it was true the groom was a High Lord, however, this groom was Lord Stannis Baratheon; who was elevated to his position by circumstance. The circumstance being that he was a second son, until he no longer was a second son. Of course, Stannis Baratheon it was said in whispers, was far more dour and far less charming then his brother, the lamented Lord Robert; even if the previous Stormlord had been quite the rouge and officially a traitor at the time of his death. Stannis Baratheon, himself, was pardoned for his undertakings in the war, having taken the part of his brother. Some were sympathetic; it was never easy to choose between one's king and one's brother. Still, the man was an enigma to most.

Of course, the bride was no less controversial. Even if Ashara Dayne was a beauty, and many agreed she quite was lovely with her dark hair and violet eyes; yet, her dishonor from Harrenhal was plain to see as she had given birth to a bastard girl of her own. The child was also in attendance for her mother's wedding; however given that all four Prince Oberyn's children were present for their father's this was met with a mere shrug by most in attendance. Of course, there was still some whispering as some still thought the identity of Lady Ashara's daughter's father was also deserving was still worth discussing. Of course any who saw both together wondered at the most unusual pairing.

Still, this was to be a proper wedding held at the Great Sept of Baelor as is due for individuals of their position.

Inside the Sept, next to the High Septon, the groom stood. While some were quite certain this groom was less handsome than Prince Oberyn or from what others remembered of Robert Baratheon's looks, his brother; there was something lordly about the way the tall and broad-shouldered man carried himself. Of course, he did have his family's much lauded, trademark dark hair and blue eyes. His stature was only helped along by the way he was dressed: in black and gold. True, the design was simple, yet elegant in its own way; but, that was to be expected. Stannis Baratheon was known to be a direct man with no patience for flamboyance.

Taking in the audience for this wedding one does notice that to be sure there were fewer people in attendance for this occasion; however the attendees were no less exalted than those of the wedding held previously. As it happened some of the persons in attendance today were the same who attended the wedding of Prince Oberyn of Dorne and Lady Cersei of Casterly Rock.

Towards the front, Lord Renly, Lord Stannis' younger brother, was in attendance; dressed in a similar manner to that of his older brother. Seated next to him were some of Lord Stannis' bannermen; in particular, Lords Eldon and Lomas Estermont of Greenstone, uncles to Lord Baratheon, and Lord Penrose of Parchments.

All of the bride's family was all present; Lady Dayne, having arrived with her lord-husband's party the week prior, was seated with her good-brother and young good-sister. Ser Arthur Dayne, could be identified by his clothing; the white of the Kingsguard. Lord Dayne, acting in the role of the bride's father, was expected to arrive in the Sept with the bride.

Behind them, seated, were members of the Royal Family. With the Queen being of Dornish origin and was one of the bride's closest friend's and the King also having been a friend to the Daynes for years, as such, it was understood by many that they certainly would be in attendance for this wedding. Prince Viserys and Princess Rhaenys, as with the last wedding, were also allowed to attend this wedding. Some remembered the groom had a grandmother who had been a Targaryen and so the groom did have ties to the Royal Family as well.

Because of their longstanding friendships with the bride's family, both princes of Dorne, along side with their wives and their children, were in attendance, as well. Some who were also present at the last wedding, this time were not as taken aback at seeing Prince Oberyn's children in attendance. The Hand of the King and his lady-wife, Lysa Tully, were also in attendance for the occasion. They were seated next to Lord Tully, the Master of Laws on the Small Council. Master of Coin, Lord Tywin Lannister; his brother, Lord Kevan Lannister and his lady wife, Dorna Swyft; Lord Emmon Frey and his lady-wife, Genna Lannister, were also present.

Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Brynden Tully, newly appointed to the Kingsguard, were also in the exalted company; though they were seated towards the rear.

The procedure for the wedding of Lord Stannis Baratheon of Storm's End and Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall was to be very similar to that of Prince Oberyn Martell of Sunspear and Lady Cersei of Casterly Rock; only this time it was to be Lord Dayne who would walk his sister into the Sept and the color of the cloak the lady would wear on into and out of the Sept would be different.

Shortly thereafter, the bride entered with her brother, Lord Dayne. Lady Ashara's silver gown was made of Dornish silk and it matched exactly the color of Lady Ashara's eyes. Coupled with the lavender maidencloak and a necklace set with jewels the color of amethyst, the ensemble made her seem all the more lovely. While some marveled at Lord Baratheon's luck at acquiring such a lovely wife, some marveled at how happy Lady Ashara seemed to be married to Lord Stannis. Some were rather amazed to see Lord Stannis did not smile when his bride came to stand beside him, but, his face relaxed as she eagerly took his properly extended hand.

The service began with the dedicated prayers to the Seven, in particular the _Song of the Seven_. After that, prayers were said in the name of and to consecrate the union of this couple. There was also the traditional singing of hymns lead by the High Septon.

Following that, Lord Dayne went to unclasp the cloak from his sister's shoulders. While Lord Stannis did not have the same flamboyance in placing the Baratheon heraldic stag embroidered over Lady Ashara's shoulders that Prince Oberyn displayed at his wedding, there was, however, something proprietary about his motions, which caused some in the audience to show surprise.

Thereafter the Septon lead the couple in taking their marriage vows. The vows said by the couple were the same which were exchanged at the previous wedding, however, these vows exchanged with a much more serious undertone. Even the kiss they shared was brief; but, not cold or distant. The proclamation of the marriage being sealed was heartily celebrated by the audience.

* * *

Given that the bride was Dornish, the items included in this feast had some similarities with that of Prince Oberyn's wedding, but, this wedding also had varied fare which included more foods from the Stormland's and King's Landing. The soup courses included Sister's Stew and Blandissory. The main courses included such foods as beef and other roasted meats, suckling pig, cream swans, and trout wrapped in bacon. There were also a variety of puddings and desserts which included cherry tarts, honeycakes, and lemoncakes. Most importantly, there was a bountiful array of drink available to be imbibed: Dornish sours, sweet plum wine, and copious amounts of strongwines, spice wines, wines made of various other fruits.

All at the wedding were quite strident in their wish to enjoy themselves. Some however mourned that there was to be no bedding on this night. Most who claimed to know Stannis Baratheon, knew he was a serious sort of man, and had been even in childhood. Of course, most believed him to be a fairly traditional sort; however, that he would disavow this particular tradition was met with surprise and bitterness on the part of some of the men; who knowing the identity of the bride had been previously quite eager to attend the feast. Those who bemoaned the lost opportunity fell to eating, drinking, and enjoying the entertainments set for the night to assuage their disappointment. Some who had been at the wedding and saw the way the groom put his cloak on his bride, upon hearing this, sent a knowing look the groom's way.

That there would be no bedding did not stop musicians from playing such selections as _The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown_. Lord Baratheon looked rather incredulous at that while Lady Baratheon looked vaguely amused, but, took her husband's hand and smiled at him. Aside from the traditional musical selections of various artists from the Stormlands and Dorne there was also a rendition of the mummer's play, "The Conqueror's Two Wives".

At the raised dais, Stannis Baratheon was indeed living up to his reputation as a man of much restraint; he was quietly eating his food and washing food down with the same cup of wine he was given at the start of the feast. Let it not be said he was completely silent through the meal. Though he did not speak much, he was seen regularly speaking to his new wife, occasionally to his younger brother, and infrequently with Lord Arryn. Lady Ashara, on the other hand, could be seen chatting away eagerly with the others at the table and seemed to be enjoying her food and drink. The disparity of their personalities caused other's to question the pair's relationship; however, the wedded pair seemed to be quite comfortable in each other's company.

Soon enough many in attendance at the wedding feast had their fill of food and drink though plenty continued on in that endeavor. Because there was to be no bedding that evening, there was an earlier start to the dancing. Lord Stannis and Lady Ashara led the first dance and the second as well. While Lady Ashara had long since been known to dance well, most had not seen Lord Stannis dance prior occasions, much less with frequency or with much enthusiasm. As such, it took many by surprise that while he was not quite fluid a dancer, he was more than merely competent at dancing. Soon enough, others such as the King and Queen, other lords and ladies, joined in; including the young Lord Renly who, before all the children were shuffled off to bed, shared a dance each with Princess Rhaenys, Princess Arianne, and the oldest two of the princesses' cousins.

Before too much time had passed others took their chance to dance with either of the wedded couple and so Lord Stannis shared dances with Lady Dayne, young Lady Allyria Dayne, the Queen, and the Hand's wife, while Lady Ashara danced with her both brothers, Lord Renly, and the King. Shortly after that, it became evident to some Lord Stannis had been less than enthused at the idea of sharing a dance with someone not his wife, though the list of hopefuls who would dance with Lady Ashara was incredibly long and included such company as Ser Barristan the Bold. Even his old uncle, Lord Eldon Estermont who, during the later part of the night, blithely ignoring tradition, almost refused to give Lord Stannis his lady-wife back when Lord Stannis, after spending some time in conversation with men who were of the Stormlord's retinue, got up to share the final dance of the night with her.

Even without the bedding, all who attended the wedding festivities of Lord Stannis Baratheon of Storm's End and Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall, including the blessedly traditional wedding ceremony, counted the events as unique, memorable, and enjoyable in their own right.


	12. Chapter 12

It was an appropriately cold morning as Rhaegar stood silently watching as those about him spoke to one another before the guests from the Stormlands were set to take their leave of King's Landing.

As he observed servants hurrying to finish off the remaining preparations for the journey, Rhaegar looked at where Lord Stannis and Lord Arryn stood off to one side. Lady Arryn stood in her husband's proximity, though she was slightly standing apart from them.

Rhaegar returned his attention to the high lords. It seemed that while the two lords were not overly affectionate with each other, given that their individual stances seemed rather formal and neither man was particularly effusive, they seemed to be on relatively good terms. Rhaegar fought the flush attempting to take a foothold on his pale face; Rhaegar's relationship with Lord Stannis was still one of careful civility and would likely remain so.

That their relationship was still cold was primarily of his doing and he long since accepted that. Even before the war and Robert, and however much it was seen as lacking in the abilities of a King, though it was not said he was discourteous, it was never in him to be overly courtly. He breathes out slightly; this was not the time to ruminate on his short-comings. With most of the guests who arrived for the coronation and the series of weddings gone or in the process of leaving, there would be more than enough time for that later.

No longer desirous of looking at those two other Southron lords he passes his attention onto the others from the Stormlands. Rhaegar belatedly remembered the Baratheon contingent was to be split into two groups so that they could in separate directions. Half of them were going to Storm's End directly, while the Baratheon family and some of their men were intended to make a sojourn of the Vale, the Arryns' domain; where the intent of Stannis Baratheon was to retrieve his brother's daughter from the Vale to take her with them to Storm's End.

Rhaegar swiftly directed his attention to Viserys who is saying goodbye to Lord Renly. Both the young men had been spending so much time together and were on such good terms that he had briefly thought to offer to foster the young lord at King's Landing, but, remembering Jon Arryn's fostering of both Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon and Lord Stannis' musings on his brother's fostering, thought better of it.

To be sure, it was possible that Lord Stannis would accept the offer and while it would likely benefit both of the boys and his relations with the other lord, Rhaegar did not have it in him to force the issue. Remembering the ease by which Lord Stannis took Ashara to wife and their still stilted interactions Rhaegar knew that the man would accept much from Rhaegar out of duty, but, Rhaegar would not be able to surmise if the other lord's acceptance of anything he offered was due to Stannis Baratheon's belief in his ideas having merit and so Rhaegar refrained from voicing such an offer. Both of the boys would just have to be content with letters and official visits; they would have to content themselves with that, at least in the interim. Soon enough there will be other friends and responsibilities for Viserys to occupy his time.

Though he tried telling himself that, he could see by the way they tried to put a brave face on their impending separation, Rhaegar just could feel that Lord Renly's return to Storm's End would be difficult for his brother.

It was no better when Rhaegar turned to where Elia and Ashara were saying their farewells, with Ashara's brother's joining them. After Ashara and Lord Stannis's wedding, it was obvious to everyone that both of the women, being as close as sisters were, had been aggrieved at the thought of separating again; yet, they both knew the inevitability of it. At least this time he was present for their separation and at least in this instance, Ashara and Elia were being separated because of less dubious reasons. Still, seeing Elia's face, he could feel that his would take the loss of her friend keenly.

True, his wife had friends in her both of her good-sisters, but, her brothers and their families would leave soon as well. Even with Elia on good terms with other women in King's Landing, Ashara was for many years, Elia's closest friend and it would cause both the women grief for some time. He could not say he shared as close as a friendship with Ashara as his wife and he knew Ashara did not regard him as highly as she had done in the past, but, they were parting on better terms than when Ashara returned to King's Landing.

Rhaegar turned his head briefly to see Lady Arryn's gaze also directed towards them, but, the woman did not make a move to join the two ladies. In fact, as far as he could tell Lady Lysa rarely was seen in Elia's company if Ashara had been present. He almost winced; Lady Lysa Tully was the sister to Ned Stark's wife. It was very little wonder the other woman was uncomfortable around Ashara.

Before too much time had passed one of Lord Stannis' attendants whispered something into Lord Stannis' ear causing the dark haired man and both men of the Stormlands took their leave of Jon Arryn to make his way towards to where the young Lord Renly was. The preparations, it seemed were fully completed.

With only a few more words, and a gesture from the elder Baratheon, the attendant guided Lord Renly slowly towards the wheel-house, where Ashara's daughter was already ensconced with a nurse.

Lord Stannis, with Viserys slowly following, made his way to where Ashara stood. When the got to her side, with a bow towards Elia and a polite greeting announcing his presence, Ashara turned and slipped her hand in her husband's. Much to Rhaegar's surprise he held it for a while. Not as surprising was Viserys pressing into Elia's side and Elia keeping a firm hand on his shoulder.

Rhaegar made his way to the group as Elia and Ashara shared one more embrace before stepping away from one another. Rhaegar stood to Elia's other side and touched his hand to hers, which she took, but, she did not look at him. Having seen him, Stannis Baratheon, turned towards him with a bow and a brief, "Your Grace."

Rhaegar returned with a polite, "Lord Stannis, Ashara, I wish you well on your journey." He found that he meant it.

The man looked at him and nodded once again. "Thank you."

Ashara stepped towards them once more. With a pained face, kissing Elia on the cheek once again and having made assurances that she would write regularly, Ashara turned to him and whispered in his ear, "Do right by her." The 'this time', evident in her voice.

He nodded and wished her a blessed journey. With that Ashara joined her daughter and good-brother in the wheel-house and Lord Baratheon climbed atop his horse.

Once the party was well and truly gone, those remaining made slowly made their way into the Red Keep and to their duties.

* * *

"Lady Arryn, thank you for joining me." Elia, not having known the other lady very well, was truthfully glad the other woman consented to join her in the nursery, though neither of them knew how best to speak to each other. To be frank Elia was fairly certain she would have never chosen Lysa Arryn as a companion before today. Though the Arryns had been in the capital for weeks, Elia had not spent much time with the other woman, despite Lord Arryn being Rhaegar's Hand. Outside the few feasts and other entertainments, Lady Tully had not taken that much of an interest at the goings on court and Elia could not remember if they shared any interests at all.

Lady Lysa joined them seeing the Baratheon's on their journey, but, Lady Lysa did not take much part in speaking to any of the others and did not move to join her and Ashara or any of the other ladies present. The looks the woman sent her way as they were wishing Ashara and her family farewell showed Elia that she should have spent more time with the other woman. Even that which caused divisions could have been avoided if someone made the effort. At any rate Lady Lysa, without her sister, seemed rather lonely. Even at meal times when the Hand and Lady Lysa would join them, the younger woman would speak rarely to her own husband, but, the Hand would rarely speak to her either.

Elia could sympathize with that up to a point. There were still days she did not want to speak to Rhaegar or look at him. She knew it was uncharitable, but, there were moments that she could just not stand the sight of him, but, even those were fewer and fewer as time went on. Even though she and Rhaegar did not share one another's bed frequently they certainly spent time together. For all that happened between them she still liked being with Rhaegar most of the time. But, then they were similar in age and had two children together; knew and loved each other even.

Still, she could not fathom the coldness still existing between the Hand and his wife. At first she supposed it was just that Lord Arryn was just so much older than his wife. When she first met Lady Arryn she could not help but think of her as a girl. But, then since Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Stark his Queen of Love and Beauty, for a long while Elia felt so much older than she was, but, with Lady Lysa age could not have been the only reason. While it was common enough for a highborn lady to have an older husband, even then the difference was great; but, she sensed that there was something else.

Lord and Lady Arryn seemed more distant with one another, even without their respective duties getting in the way. He seemed to be a good man and she seemed a typical high-born woman of her age; well, almost, there was sullenness about her.

Of course, there were rumors. To be sure there was no doubt that Lord Arryn having been childless could use a wife, but, if one of Lord Hoster's daughters was betrothed to the Lord of the North for years, that the other one could not entice Jaime Lannister only to be married off a scant few years later to Lord Arryn, who needed her father's troops, it was bound to raise a few questions.

Still, for Elia those rumors were of no concern. With Ashara gone, and her family preparing to leave, it was just as well she get to know Lysa Tully. It was high time she did. The lady just may surprise her.

She had not meant it as a slight, but, even moving past their contentious, former loyalties and their individual duties, given Ashara's awkward relationship with the Starks, and, in turn with the Tully's, it seemed as though she rarely was in the close company of Lady Lysa Tully.

As it was, the bulk of her feminine company came in the form of handmaidens, higher order household staff, and children's nurses, but, it would hardly be appropriate to ask them to join her much when she had her duties and they had theirs. It was true she had other female company of proper rank; but, mostly they came in the form of courtiers who would come and go from King's Landing upon the whims of their lords and husbands.

Still, this was something that needed to be rectified. If the war had taught Elia one thing it was that maintaining amiable relations with as many people as one can was absolutely necessary. But, a more selfish part of Elia knew that she invited the other woman along because it could get lonely in King's Landing. Even before the war there were not that many female companions of a similar age Elia had access to and King's Landing always seemed rather cold; even now when things were settling. Elia only had to think of this morning and she believed the other woman felt the same.

"It is an honor." The younger woman's response pulled her from those thoughts. "Are those the children?"

"Yes; three of them. The one nearest you is the Princess Daenerys."

Peering down at the girl, Lysa remarks, "She looks just like Prince Viserys."

Elia smiles again. "Except my daughter, who has my coloring, and Prince Jon, whose coloring takes after his mother, they have the Targaryen coloring." She gestured to the sleeping, dark haired infant.

Lysa turned to where she pointed, looking rather startled at the response. "You say that so easily." After she blurted that out, the Hand's wife looked rather appalled at herself.

Peering into Jon's crib, Elia reflexively strokes a finger down a chubby cheek.

"Jon is a simple name to say." She knows what the other woman meant, but, Elia could not help the joke. It was either make light of it or sigh at the way many high-born ladies would react to her speaking so casually about her husband's second son.

"I meant, he, how… I apologize." The woman then quieted, looking as though she wished she was swallowed up by the ground, whole, especially seeing a member of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, at the door. Elia waved him off. The girl was skittish as it was.

Trying to eliminate the awkwardness and give the other woman a reason to calm, she held up a hand. "It's quite alright, Lady Lysa. There is nothing to apologize for." Elia meant it. Even if this had been Dorne, there would have been awkwardness when it came to Jon, given the way he was conceived. She understood it more keenly with Lady Lysa being so young and so traditionally Southron; but, the piteous looks and the discomfort were rather tiring, given the frequency.

"His Grace legitimized him." Elia almost laughed; this one had some bravery in her after all. The other girl seemed to have a tone in her voice which signified horror at that development.

"That is correct." Elia keeps her voice level. That was hardly news.

"My sister told me once that Lord Stark offered to foster him." So, the sisters got on well enough. Though she had Ashara, she often wondered what it was like to have a sister.

"Yes, that is true."

"Why not foster him with his uncle?" Remembering the Tully house words of Family, Duty, Honor, and what those words traditionally mean with respect to baseborn children, Elia should have known the conversation would have come to that. The difficulty with which the woman refrains from asking is why she would freely accept what was seen as dishonor into her household is obvious, and woefully predictable.

"A father's love for his child is no small matter and we both decided it would be best for him to be with his family, with us." That was all true. For all that Rhaegar was not particularly demonstrative, Elia knows he does love his children and they did decide to keep Jon with them, together.

"And you agreed, Your Grace?" She looks torn; half awed, half repulsed.

"Yes, of course." Otherwise, it was likely that either the child would not have been here or she would not have been is what she stops herself from saying.

"But, is it not odd?" Elia would have snorted in derision if she was the type to do so. The need to be polite sometimes wears on a person. The situation has been more than simply odd for quite some time.

"In what way is it odd, Lady Lysa?" Elia wants to know what this one's thoughts are. She had her own thoughts and heard enough of everyone else's opinion, why not Lysa Tully's?

"Keeping a bastard child in one's household, even if he is legitimized." Elia would have smiled; even with legitimization, it makes the girl uncomfortable. She hears the uncertainty in the other woman's voice and briefly wonders if Jon Arryn was the type to have a lover with a bastard child before dismissing that thought entirely. He was not the type of man.

A bastard child or not, there are many days where it seems as though Jon is not only her husband's child, but, hers. It is her hands that hold him and her voice that sings for him. She does the same for Viserys and Daenerys and they are no more children of her body than Jon is. She hates what Rhaegar had done, how betrayed and inconsequential she felt because of it; but, she hated Aerys far more and he was far crueler than Rhaegar could hope to be. If she can raise Aerys's children, she can raise Rhaegar's. In the end they are all hers in one way or another.

That is not what she says; not when a rote answer will do. "It is not uncommon for men to have children not by their wives, even outside of Dorne; and he is family, Lady Lysa." It is true enough; but, not many accept that so easily.

"But, the child is not usually kept within their household along side their own children." That is always the crux of the matter, isn't it? It is accepted to have them, but, not have them near. It is very curious that; as if ignoring it by tucking the child in some faraway corner, giving him a different name, denying the child the same rights others of their blood have, could or would somehow lessen the hurt, embarrassment, or the shame of being found lacking. It is also equally quite a strange thing to see the child to be punished for the parent's inability or refusal to know or act better no matter what the reason for that was.

That is why Elia could not bring herself to do that to Jon. No one will think badly of her keeping the child or from refraining form denying his father from giving him his due as Rhaegar's son, but, it is right for Rhaegar to take responsibility for his son.

A war started because her husband eloped with a woman, a girl truly, and Aerys ignored their actions affect others outside of themselves; it serves her well to remember one thing always leads to something else.

"No, but, that does not change that there was a child born; no matter where the child is and the child needs a mother." The girl's eyes widen at that. Elia knows it is said of her in between the pity and the slight awe that she is seen as practical; for taking the mantle of mother though it is plain enough to her there was very little option otherwise. She does not have that luxury of sending the child to his mother's folk. Not when the child is the son of the king and so many lives were lost and touched when her husband and his mother chose to bring him into the world and not when such a division could lead to enmity for her own son.

Elia wonders if the lady will ask her what her feelings about Lyanna Stark are. They never do; not even brave Ned Stark had. That first conversation with Ned Stark was not her best, but, it was all so new then. He never asked even when they became civil. To be sure, she never truly knows what she would say now if asked directly.

"Still, it is unusual." She would have laughed at how the girl simply says 'unusual', as if that term could encapsulate all that it is.

"I suppose to some it would be." It is outlandish, but, above all, needs must.

Remembering whose good-sister she speaks to she gives an easy answer. "I am Dornish, Lady Lysa. It is not so strange to have one's own child, or their spouse's children by paramours about them."

Lyanna Stark had not been a paramour in the strictest sense. But, what else does someone call the woman their husband started a war over; perhaps even loved? A more significant question is 'does it matter'? Though she said it nonchalantly, the issue of her husband and Lyanna Stark would never be easy for her to think about, but, she would do herself no favors if she was unkind about the girl or her husband. Selfishness or not; whatever she is, whatever her failings are perceived to be, it would not become her to sink low. That one's husband sought affections elsewhere is often seen as a failing in the wife. Her being of Dorne was long held to be a failing by Aerys. She wishes she could rant and rave because of it, but, she is of an age to know better; that is the world they live in.

Thinking about it, there is no question others ask her that she fails to ask herself. The most important one she asks herself every day is, 'should it stop being a matter simply because Lyanna Stark is dead and her husband is with her'? That is a difficult question to answer, but, she loves her husband and she owes it to herself to not let the memory of ghost cripple her.

"May I hold him?" Her reverie thankfully broke when the younger woman asked, looking rather nervous gesturing to her son.

"Of course." Elia took her sleeping son from the bassinet and handed Aegon to the younger woman who took him gently, but, her nervousness showed.

"He's quite lovely."

Elia smiled again. "Thank you." When the babe let out a cry and started to move animatedly, the girl looked to Elia in frightened askance, but, made no move to give the child back.

"All is well; just slowly move your arms in a swaying motion. It will soothe him."

"He is an active one then?"

"Yes, he can be, but, he is more active later, in the afternoon. It was only a few moons ago that I could not put him down before he started to cry. Soon enough he will be on his way to toddling about."

The younger girl's expression was rather sad, if not wistful, as she quietly handed Aegon back; causing Elia's expression to almost falter as she settled him into his crib.

Lysa looked around. Trying to change the subject, she said, "You said the Princess was not here? Where is she? Does she not share these rooms?"

Elia laughed at that. "She does, but, Prince Viserys is at lessons and she went with him."

Lysa frowned. "She takes lessons with the Prince?"

She smiled. "Not truly." At the girls' flummoxed expression Elia elaborates, "In Dorne it is common enough for girls to join the boys in certain things. The other children are much too young to be of interest, but, Viserys likes a captive audience and during the war…" She trailed off. The war would never not be an easy subject and being who they were she did not want to bring it up more if the girl was uncomfortable, but, Lysa looked seemed curious. At any rate there was no derision from the other woman.

"They were close and there were not that many children here that either of them was used to. Everywhere he went, he wanted her to go, and she'd follow. The young prince had been rather morose at Lord Renly's departure. Today, well, he wanted his old friend and there was no harm in it."

The girl seemed to accept that. The rest of the morning, at least until the midday meal was spent on less contentious topics.

* * *

Rhaegar, for his part, spent the majority of his morning in council. The primary issue to be discussed was the kingdom's finances. For him, it was hardly the most scintillating of topics.

Though the coronation ceremonies and related festivities were not overly extravagant, public festivities always brought out contradictory attitudes when it came time to pay for them. On one hand everyone favored frivolities when it meant they would be at the center of others attentions or that it meant there would be an upswing in localized business, or that their requested presence meant an elevation in their social status; but few would think about the costs incurred when considering the myriad of details required for the success of such activities to be realized.

Infrastructure and other city related issues were always a pressing concern. Rebuilding of certain areas of King's Landing was discussed. Areas near Viseyna's Hill and the old dragonpits had structures which were still in disrepair. The Gold Cloaks also needed to raise their numbers and so there was a need to discuss the costs associated with that.

The more immediate issue needing to be addressed, in particular, was the issue of repayment of the loans taken from the Iron Bank of Braavos. Of course, all of this required tedious and seemingly endless discussions of payment schedules and revenue generation, which in turn sparked questions of where that revenue would come from. Talk of taxing the populace was no less uninteresting but necessary. There was considerable time debating which particular products and services to tax. The most contentious debate, the heated nature of which Rhaegar felt was quite unwarranted, was about raising the tax on brothels.

Lord Hoster argued that the business of whores picked up quite spectacularly as of late and so such ventures would be taxed at a greater rate. Ser Gerold, Rhaegar noticed, sided with Lord Hoster. Lord Emmon, however, put up resistance against the idea, citing "the guests of the city would be less likely to spend less" thereby decreasing the tax one could get from tax revenue. Eventually the debate only died down when Lord Tywin sent a look towards his good-brother.

Most of the council fell in line with Jon Arryn, when he settled the argument saying a small increase in taxes could only benefit the city as a whole.

As one remedy to the financial situation and to fill the treasury's coffers, Lord Tywin offered to provide a loan, but, Rhaegar had no intention of being too in debt to Lord Tywin. He knew from his experience dealing with Tywin Lannister was best done at a minimum. He would accept some help from the Lord of Casterly Rock, but, not a significant amount. Mace Tyrell, the new Master of Ships, also seemed all to be supremely helpful, by saying he would provide a loan of his own if needed. On the surface that was more agreeable than receiving a loan from the Warden of the West, but, Rhaegar knew better to accept a greater amount from Tyrell than he would Lannister.

Of course, Mace Tyrell had proved his loyalty to the Targaryens, but, Rhaegar was no fool to believe that Mace Tyrell did not have aims of his own. When the Hand mentioned his lady-wife was with Elia, and when Doran arrived saying something about his daughter, as a reward for good behavior, being allowed to join Viserys and Rhaenys at lessons with the Maester 'in the interest of making friends', Mace Tyrell hinted if Rhaegar wished it, he would make arrangements for his wife and children to come to King's Landing; after all he had 'two boys of a similar age to Prince Viserys and the King and Queen had not seen his youngest children and would that not be quaint'.

Not to be outdone, Lord Hoster who would be leaving for his lands later that day had the thought of brining his boy to King's Landing the next time he sojourned here. Remembering Viserys's reaction to Lord Renly's leaving and that Doran's and Oberyn's broods would leave with them, Rhaegar could not flatly refuse either offer. On one hand it would do well to solidify their relationships with the other houses and on the other, the idea did have merit. Even though Viserys got on with Lord Tywin's boy, the lad was sent back to Casterly Rock a few days after his sister's wedding. Viserys spent too much time with the likes of Oberyn and Ser Jaime than he did companions of his own age. His brother needed other companions.

As far as his daughter was concerned, for all he did not spend as much time with his daughter as he should, it would be a while before his sons or sister would be of any interest to her. Doran's girl and Oberyn's brood were much too wild in his opinion. He had every intention of reducing the effects of their exposure on his dear girl.

There was Elia to think of. He had not known Lady Tyrell wife all that well; but, at least she was younger than Genna Lannister; and so he did not outright refuse Lord Mace on that score. He never put much thought on Elia's companions before, but, he was no Aerys to deny his wife friendships if she was willing to form them; especially after Ashara had taken her leave of King's Landing. For now the Red Keep was filled with suitable company in the form of Doran's wife, Princess Mellario, and the Gods knew Oberyn and Ser Jaime would not desist about the spirited Cersei Lannister. Still, those two ladies would leave soon enough. There was, of course, Lady Arryn, who Elia invited to join her in the nursery today. Though he could not imagine how much of a deep friendship Elia could possibly have with Lady Arryn, Lord Arryn was his Hand and it would be expected their wives should be on amiable terms.

At any rate, Elia ought to have companions who were of a similar age and rank and not a member of the Kingsguard. It was frustrating enough at least one of his Kingsguard positively insisted on cutting in on his dancing with Elia every time there is a feast; but, with Arthur trying valiantly to rebuild their friendship and Jaime's war-forged acquaintance and new familial relationship with Elia, the tendency of the members of his Kingsguard to be overly courtly with his wife was getting rather tiresome. There were so few women at court who Rhaegar knew could make good friends to his wife, who did so without there being machinations behind it. Lysa Tully was not ideal in any sense, but, she would have to do, for now.

The rest of the meeting seemed no more stirring than when it began. Only after he was done with the meeting of the council there were petitions to be heard; the nearly endless petitions.

He did it well and knew it was necessary, however, Rhaegar wondered if ruling was actually an activity anyone could possibly enjoy outside of their being mad, like his father. He knew his duty, but, seeing the flexing of power between lords, deciding minor squabbles between men over grain rights, and witnessing vendors make arguments demanding thieves pay for taking food by forcing men to take the Black wore thin quickly.

Often it tried his patience, that men could squabble over the most mundane of things, but, he learned quickly enough to not voice vocal objections. Once he overheard Lord Renly ask Lord Stannis saying something to similar to which Jon Arryn cut in shaking his head in bemusement telling the boy that, "I assure you there is no better option, Lord Renly. Your brother is the Lord of Storm's End. If he was not going to do it, who knew what others in his stead were going to do under Lord Stannis' name", all the while not looking up from his letters muttering something about the distance of the Vale and regular ravens from his castellan.

Another time he made his way into Elia's Solar without being announced only to see the head cook, nearly in tears, exiting the room, followed by Rhaegar's steward, with a ledger in hand, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. He entered it only to find Elia with her head down on the table in front of her, laughing. Disturbed by the disparity of reactions he ventured enough to ask what the matter was. She nearly went into hysterics, eventually responding, "The cook had plans for something special for the feast for the following night; the steward was rather strident in the hopes of the household being more economical." Apparently asking if that was something she needed to regularly intercede on was worthy of a snort and an incredulous, "At least, this instance did not involve a handmaiden and a seamstress nearly coming to blows over the attentions of a visiting lord's squire".

Coming back to the present, Rhaegar was thankful the hall was nearly empty with respect to petitioners and complainants. Soon enough even they were gone and it afforded Rhaegar the opportunity to invite his Hand to his Solar.

"Lord Arryn, thank you for joining me."

"It is my pleasure, Your Grace."

"I never thought governing would be like this."

The older man, dressed in the blue of his house, looks at him in askance. "Like what?"

"Tedious; driven by minutiae."

Lord Arryn looks at him, in surprise. In a wry voice he asks, "You were given Dragonstone to govern once?"

Rhaegar looked at him, "Yes, that is the traditional seat of the future King of Westeros." His tone clearly indicates that the question was a foolish one. Everyone knew that fact.

"And you dealt with the same of the situations, I warrant."

"Yes, that is so." Rhaegar can not quite grasp what the other man is getting at. "Still, I thought…"

"Thought what?" Arryn's tone is patient, but, curious.

"That governing, being King, was meant to be something greater. That there is something greater." Being King was a duty and he would do it, but, Rhaegar was sure he was meant for something more than what he was doing.

Lord Arryn sends him a look; one that a parent sends a rather obtuse child of Viserys' age. It was a look he only heard about from the experiences of others. "All of Westeros is greater than Dragonstone."

"That is not what I meant." His Hand has the temerity to laugh at him.

"Your Grace", Jon Arryn begins, in a voice which was more suited to saying, 'My boy', "If you could, who would you choose to be anyone other than who you are now?"

What a ludicrous notion. The man looked expectant. "No, I would not." He never thought about being anything other than what he was.

"Would you choose to do certain things differently?" His Hand looks curious.

"Yes." Rhaegar does have regrets; both of things he has done and things he has not. Any man would.

It was likely Lord Arryn did not require a more rigorous answer because he continued, sighing, "The events which made up my life as it has unfolded are not how I imagined they would and I daresay you feel the same in some respects. At my age I would not have imagined myself to be childless nor married for the third time to the younger daughter of Lord Hoster any more than I would have thought I would ever be Hand of the King. I certainly would never have imagined that one day I would have refused my king-"

He raised a hand when Rhaegar moved to protest. "I do not mean that as an offence or some sort an attack, Your Grace." He took a deep breath. "Your Grace, Rhaegar, let me say my peace. You know my house words." It was not a question but Rhaegar nodded. _As High as Honor_ are the words of House Arryn. In these few months Rhaegar learned he admired the man in front of him and would listen if that is what the man wished. He could and would do that. He made the man his Hand, Rhaegar owed him at least that much.

"I will not argue the merits of Robert's fight with you or yours with him, but, when I refused to turn over Robert and Ned to your father, aside from grief and betrayal I felt because how my nephew died, I did so because I was their guardian; entrusted to teach them, keep them safe, and look after their interests as much as I was able. My word and my care are my bond and in my keeping of them, that is my honor. Though I had not thought this would be my life, I know for certain I am Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie. It is my duty to do right by those who look to me for guidance, support, and judgment. That extends to my bannermen and who live within in my borders. The way I comport myself is why my men follow me. What you call 'tedious' and 'minutiae' is not so for those whose petitions you hear or whose part you take when you pronounce your judgment. It may not seem like much, but, the baker whose goods are stolen in the end means less food for his family, the increase in Gold Cloaks is done for the safety for this city's citizens, even the taxes we mean to levy represent more money to fix that which needs it. Every decision and choice should be given due consideration. Those who govern can not take that lightly. It falls to someone to make decisions and pass judgments. By your birth, custom, and victory in battle, for that, fate chose you."

With a more unswerving look Jon Arryn says to him, "It may not seem like much, but, those who rely on you require that you play your part if you would have them play theirs. Those who call you 'King' do not look to you to fly unaided or bring dragons to life. All of Westeros looks to you to do right by them. There is no greater charge or purpose than that."

With a paternal pat to his shoulder the Lord of the Eyrie left Rhaegar in silence.

* * *

That night, Rhaegar, with Ser Arthur, made his way to the nursery where Elia and his young family was waiting. On his way to his destination Rhaegar ruminated on Jon Arryn's words. Lord Arryn's words cut him deep, but, they had done as the Lord of the Eyrie likely intended. They had given him plenty to think about. He could not stop thinking about them.

They had surprised him, but, they had not angered him, because Jon Arryn was a serious man with very little cruelty in him. He knew the other man had not said what he had lightly. Rhaegar appreciated that the man was forthright, no matter how sharp his words seemed to be. Rhaegar could see they had been words he needed to hear. Only now there was nothing to distract him from thoughts long suppressed.

Those words made him confront the part of him that was his father's son; the part of him he was so eager to deny and ignore. It was no difficult thing to wish to avoid memories of his father. Most everyone else avoided all mention of him. Why would anyone choose to remember, when for most, Aerys was remembered for the later part of his life; when he was the king who lived up to the ideals spelled out in the words of their house: _Fire and Blood_.

His father gave Westeros more fire and blood than it ever needed. Rhaegar was no different, no less culpable, in that regard.

His father's largest failing was not his madness, but, that his madness overshadowed everything else; propriety, duty, good sense, and, even, reality. One of Rhaegar's failings was that, like his father, he too let that same madness, that same reckless abandon and disregard of good sense, convention, and duty, take a hold of him at the expense of others.

Though he had done his duty and had taken charge of his father's armies when the time came, one of Rhaegar's greatest regrets was that he, even knowing his father's failings, had not taken the steps to correct them before his father's actions tore the kingdom apart. His father had ceased to care about his duty towards the kingdom and the people in it. Even if he later regretted it some of it, Rhaegar had done the same. Lord Arryn had been correct in that continuing to disregard or deeming unimportant what he ought not to for the chance to fulfill wild dreams would continue to be a great disservice to those who are his charges.

Only Jon Arryn's words caused him to think of more. He could have just as easily have be talking to him about his role as a husband and as a father, though the other man gave no indication he was speaking to him about being anything other than a king. Though Rhaegar did not like to speculate, Lord Arryn's words about his wife were suggestive in their own right. Though it was a decent match all things considered, it was unusual. In the end Lord Arryn married the young Lady Lysa for duty to his house that he owed an heir and for the honor of his people who received an army he needed to maintain his honor.

That he, in order to give into his desire for Lyanna and to fulfill his dreams, dishonored his wife and children and disregarded duty to his house and his people is something he can no longer ignore.

After Jon left him he made his way to the practice field with Arthur only to see Oberyn and Ser Jaime practicing at their swords and hearing his good-brother, knowing his sister was with Lysa Tully, ask what Ser Jaime had thought of Lady Arryn. Ser Jaime had said he barely remembered her and truthfully never gave much thought to her. Oberyn mocked his good-brother's ignorance of a once prospective bride. The knight good-humoredly shot back saying he had met many prospective brides at one point or another that it was no guarantee of anything; not when there were other women and his duties to occupy his time. Oberyn found that humorous. Rhaegar, remembering Elia had been one of those prospective brides and that guarding his family was one of the duties the knight took seriously, however, had not. He counted himself lucky that Arthur gave no indication that his blows were coming in harder than they should have.

Once inside the nursery he could hear the sounds of Viserys' voice. When he moved into the main chamber of the nursery he saw the three cots containing the youngest of the Targaryen children. He turned to see Elia sitting on Rhaenys's bed with their daughter's head pillowed on her lap, idly brushing their daughter's curls with her hand, while her other arm was wrapped around his brother's shoulder, listening intently to Viserys, who sat on her other side, recount his day. He could not help but smile a bit. He stood at the doorway, staring at them for a while, not wishing to disturb them; the family fate gave him; the family that, as Jon Arryn put it; fate gave him charge of.

When they noticed his presence, Viserys greeted him softly and Elia started to move, but, he smiled in her direction, gesturing for her to remain seated, and to his own surprise he kissed her. He then turned looked into the cots holding the youngest of the three children in his care. In doing so he missed the questioning look his wife sent to Arthur.

Looking down his sister, how small she is he was sure her slightness would remain as she grew. Not his own daughter, but, she was his blood and by his parents' death, his responsibility. Turing to gaze at the cots holding his two sleeping sons: one, silver haired and one, dark haired and both of them dear to him, he felt a rush of affection for them. He could not help it but, every time he looked at them he wondered if that meant they would grow up to be different types of men. He could not help himself and wondered which one would be more like him and now he wonders if he wants that.

He ought to do better, be a better father to his children than his own father was. He was the one to bring them into the world; he owed them that. Looking at his oldest son, still a child, Rhaegar just knows that the older man had been right. How could he expect his son to follow him as king if he fails to act like one?

"What did I miss in council, Brother?" Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, turning. Though he was not quite up to going to today's council meeting, his brother had taken to the idea being involved.

"We discussed taxes and loans to the Bank of Braavos."

"The Maester says Braavos has a different type of sword fighting called Water Dancing, is that true Rhaegar?"

"Yes, it is." The way his brother's mind bounces about confounds him sometimes.

"Do you think we can get someone to teach me?" Rhaegar saw how Elia bit her lip, likely in an effort to stop from laughing aloud.

"Not now." Seeing the formations of a pout grow on his brother's face, he amended, "Perhaps in a year or two, I will consider it, if your progress with the standard swords grows to an appropriate level." That quieted Viserys.

"Why do you want to know that?" He wonders if it was Oberyn who put the thought in his brother's head; none of the Kingsguard would and Oberyn did spend time in Essos to warrant knowing about Braavosi culture.

"It something to write-" The boy falls silent and Elia and Rhaegar share a look. Lord Renly.

Rhaegar abruptly changes the topic, "How was your lesson with the Maester?"

"Dull." That explained the look His Hand leveled at him earlier. At the answer Elia moved her hand to cup Viserys' chin.

"Certainly you can do better than that." His wife expects his brother to do better. Princes ought to do better. That thought comes to him in His Hand's voice.

"Because Arianne was with us he made me recite the early history of Dorne. She kept trying to correct me." At the incredulous tone Elia had to hide her smile behind her hand and Rhaegar ducked his head; both knew Viserys was familiar with history of Dorne.

"What is so dull about that?"

In all the indignation of someone who has seen less than eight name days could muster, "I know the history. I am a prince, not an animal in a mummer's act."

Rhaegar nods, "As you say. Though, she did not get to correct you that much, did she?"

"No." The boy seemed absurdly proud of that.

They spent some more time speaking amongst themselves before retiring to Elia's chambers.

They spent some time discussing council matters and upcoming plans for the Red Keep's activities and then moved on to other subjects.

When they started speaking about Viserys' education Rhaegar remembered a thought he had some days ago.

"Elia."

"Yes, Rhaegar."

"Have Doran or Oberyn said when they plans on returning to see Sunspear?"

She looks at him in humor lets out a full laugh. "Very eager to see the back of Oberyn, are we?"

He flushes. He wishes to see both of her brothers gone, but, that was not the point he wishes to get across. He looks at her and she tries, what to her might seem like a valiant effort, to stifle her laughter.

She takes pity on him. "They plan on leaving within the week. Why?"

"Viserys and Arianne may just come to blows before then."

She, uncharacteristically, giggles. "Oh, come now. They are just children and they seemed to be getting along well enough." That was true and partly what worried him. He had noticed the familiarity by which Viserys spoke about Arianne and remembers that chill he felt at Oberyn's wedding when speaking to Doran.

"Has Doran said anything to you about Viserys for Arianne?"

She looks alarmed. "No, he has not. They are both too young to even consider trying for a match for either, I think. Why? Has Doran said something to you?" He could not understand what caused him to voice the idea.

"No, no. It is nothing like that. It is just that Lord Hoster plans on his son to King's Landing while Mace Tyrell is thinking of having his wife and children join him as well."

She did not seem all that surprised. Still, she asked, "Was our Master of Ships that agreeable in council then?"

"You could not possibly imagine."

"Is that so?" She let out a chuckle, "Ah well. How kind of him. I suppose it would be nice to have some more company." They look at each other but do not mention Ashara. She smiles faintly. "I do remember Lady Alerie, she was kind." Rhaegar feels just a bit lighter. Mace Tyrell's idea is not without its virtues, then.

"You knew her?"

She shrugged, "Yes, we met when Oberyn and I visited Oldtown years ago."

Though it was said with the nonchalance it deserved, Rhaegar could not help the rush of jealousy at the way Elia coughed and looked down and brushed something imaginary from her skirt. It was bad enough their friendship made all but difficult to forget Elia could have been Jaime Lannister's wife, but, Baelor Hightower, Lady Tyrell's brother, had been another suitor for Elia.

Lady Tyrell seemed a less attractive as a companion for his wife now, but, he could not deny Lord Tyrell outright. "How was Lady Arryn?" Perhaps she could be just the companion she needed; Lord Arryn was more than proving his worth.

"Young, but, nice enough, I suppose." Rhaegar heard that for the non-committal answer that was.

She furrows her brow, "Did Lady Tyrell not give birth recently? To a girl; Margaery, I think."

"Yes, though they have three other children; boys."

"I see. Did they say why they were bringing their families? Not that I fail to see the merit in it." Rhaegar could see Elia was thinking of the other lord's possible motives; though with the added question of why her husband would be thinking of arranging something a marriage between her niece and his brother.

"They heard from Lord Arryn you were spending time with Lady Arryn and Doran mentioned Arianne was with the children."

She looks at him. "Why did you ask of Arianne and Viserys? Are they not too young?" He inwardly curses. Even if she had not considered it before, now she would be.

Thinking it over, it is true not many would be eager to give their daughters to second sons when the lord has two sons of his own, even if the prospective groom is prince. Especially not when he was the son of the Mad King, but, Doran who would need a husband for his daughter-heiress at least likes Viserys and does not hold being the son of the Mad King and his sister's unfaithful husband's brother against him. Still, the idea of making a match for his brother to fix the relationship between him and Dorne is a difficult one to stomach.

He inclined his head. "They are young, but, if other noble lords seem intent on bringing their broods with them there will be talks enough about the subject sooner or later. I at least know the girl."

She raised an eyebrow but only said, "In a few years, if that is what you wish, and the subject does warrant speaking about we could consider it. Still, why voice such thoughts now?"

"It would not surprise me in the least if Mace Tyrell has designs on making an offer for Rhaenys on behalf of one of his sons in the future or making his daughter future queen of Westeros."

They can not help but share a laugh.


	13. Chapter 13

Rhaegar stared at the letter. When the servant brought it in, Rhaegar, mindful of Jon Arryn's pointed advice, had been looking at a map of the city and lists of structures which either required rebuilding or tearing down. There was also a list of potential petitioners he was to sift through for his next public audience. Because of that he had not been paying much attention to anything else. He had just waved to his desk and the lad placed it where he indicated and he gave very little thought to what the servant left the room.

When he truly looked at it, he furrowed his brow; he had not been expecting any personal correspondence. It was when he turned the letter over that his expression grew grim and he put the thing down and sat back. The sigil imprinted within the wax seal enclosing the letter Rhaegar did recognize. He could not help but sigh; still, he did not open the letter. Instead, he just stared at, wondering what he should do with it.

As the minutes ticked by he could not bring himself to touch letter again though he knew he should open it to read the content inside. Eventually, he took a deep breath and just pried the letter open. It was better to know what was inside the letter than for it to be known that he could not find it in himself to do a simple thing such as open a letter meant for his eyes.

A letter would not usually disturb him, but, this one was not one of the usual letters he would receive. If anyone looked at the piece of parchment one would think there was nothing particularly unusual about receiving a letter. In truth, because there was not much written on the parchment it was little more than a note; yet, it was not the nature of the words or lack of a wordy missive which made it unusual. Whatever he would call it, there was nothing "usual" about something, be it a note or letter, written by Ned Stark.

He knew he had promised to keep Lord Stark apprised of his son's progress, though given Jon's age there was not going to be much to report at this juncture. Only the letter did not ask only about Jon's health. It brought forth a question, in the form of asking if Rhaegar had reconsidered his offer to foster Jon with him.

He flushed; remembering his stilted experiences with the man. Still, that was not the only reason for Rhaegar's flush. Rhaegar ordinarily would have been angry at the notion of anyone suggesting that he could send Jon to his uncle, but, he was not and could not be in this instance. Rhaegar's reaction was tempered because he knew the man had made the offer in good faith and because Rhaegar contemplated the same question; likely for the same reasons Ned Stark did; both because of Jon's interest and because of Lyanna.

Lyanna. He flushed deeper. He swallows thickly as he closes his eyes; remembering both the sweet promise of their relationship's beginning and the cold, unforgiving way it ended, and the mess it left behind.

He clutched the letter in one hand while he ran his other across his forehead. With one more look at the letter he sighed again and stood. If Ned Stark wrote a letter he would expect one in return no matter what the response was. There was very little else he could give Ned Stark the other man would welcome. He owed him that.

Having no reason to leave the Solar this early in the morning, his opening the door surprised Ser Barristan who was on duty just outside the room. Letter in hand and lost in his thoughts he said nothing as he trekked through the Keep with the other man trailing just as silently behind him.

Once at the nursery it was no surprise to see Ser Darry, a member of the Kingsguard, and a nurse carrying Daenerys, but, to his surprise Elia was nowhere to be seen. Ser Willem Darry was sitting with Aegon who kept his hands clutched in the older knight's as a part of a newly implemented effort to learn how to keep himself steady on his own feet, while Jon, much to the amusement of Ser Oswell Whent, in trying to join his older brother, kept attempting to push himself up on his own hands.

Seeing the last he remembered why he came to the nursery. Frowning, looking around the room, he cleared his throat. he said, "Was Her Grace not expected in the nursery this morning?" After breakfast Elia usually spent some time in the nursery and should have been there.

Ser Oswell bowed his head slightly before replying, "She had been here. Her Grace left to assist Princess Mellario and Princess Cersei with the final preparations today only Prince Oberyn took his oldest girls out to the practice yard along with Princess Arianne and Prince Viserys. Ser Oswell laughs, "I believe the Prince had asked her to join them at the training yard after. The Prince had been quite vocal about intending on testing Ser Jaime at the sword before the Princes' return to Dorne." The knight ended that with a laugh as if it was quaint that the two men would bond that way.

He nodded. Though there was no point in waiting for Elia just yet, but, he decided to sit down and watch his sons at their play for a while. Perhaps that would help him answer the missive. First looking at his eldest son he could imagine how much Aegon would favor him when he grew. He almost smiled; Aegon looked so much like him. From what he could remember of Viserys at that age, he looked rather similar, as well.

Turning to Jon, Rhaegar froze. His eyes. Lyanna's eyes. On most days even though Jon's looks are different from his, he sees Elia holding him and it easy to tell himself their Rhaenys has darker coloring as well. Today, and because of what that letter dragged from the recesses of his mind, though he tries to avoid such thoughts, looking at Jon pains him. Now he is reminded of the things he had done, the things he should not have done; and the things he should have done better.

It shames him now, but, when he first heard that Lyanna had given birth, Jon was not the child he hoped for. As much as he wishes he could ignore that nothing can change how he felt at the time. He loves his son, but, how does one overcome knowing he felt disappointment at the birth of a healthy child? He cringes inwardly. He remembers being unsatisfied with two healthy children, why would having a third be any different? It was his failing; never being satisfied with what he had.

It did not sit well in his mind, but, he knew he could have done what most do and sent his son elsewhere to be raised without recrimination, but, the guilt of his earlier actions weighed on him. It compelled him to do more for his child, and that is why he not only decided to keep Jon with him but legitimized him as well. The letter is proof that that he could have given Jon to his uncle who was honorable enough to keep him well. He does not like to think on it because the thought is ugly even to his own mind, but, there are moments when thinks he should have done exactly that.

He remembers coming high off of his victory and being told of Jon's birth and he cannot help but close his eyes in disgust at himself. After his destined defeat of Robert he was so sure of everything. It was so easy then; to think that simply because it was destined that the situation would settle itself on its own; to believe that his dreams would come to life. Yes, he was victorious and even became king, but the rest of his dreams had been in shambles. He is repulsed by how he acted when he arrived at the Tower after the Battle at the Trident. He tore apart the kingdom and he was more disappointed he was about not having the daughter he wanted when he learned Lyanna died and he had a living, healthy son.

Looking at his son now, feeling the letter in his hands he sees the Stark, the Lyanna, in Jon. How could he not? He can not say that he does fails to enjoy knowing that his son is with him, but, every time he sees his son, and though he knows he is fortunate that he has Jon and he has most of his family with him, he can note help but think of Lyanna. He can not fail to think of how his dreams killed her.

He should have never taken her. Even if she wanted to go with him, even if she loved him and even if he loved her. Perhaps she would have been unhappy in her marriage to Robert Baratheon but at least the both of them would have been alive; many more would have.

Lyanna had been more than others her age; so intent on asserting her independence from the confines of the life her father intended for her. He loved that she wanted more than life expected from her; but, he ignored how wrong it was; how young she was. He ignored so many things. He never once thought Lyanna, so full of life and fire would die from childbirth. He knew it was possible for any woman; Elia had been bedridden after Rhaenys and almost died delivering their Aegon, but, he never suspected that would have been Lyanna's fate. But that was not the only way she could have been taken away from him.

Thinking of how their lives would have been had she lived gives him no comfort, either. The life he had for her would have stifled her; the parts that thrilled and even loved about her. She went with him because she loved him more than the life she would have otherwise lived with Robert but, she would have had to share him with not only Elia but the rest of the realm.

Elia and Lyanna were different; he knew it and loved that about them, but, he did not give that much thought before he acted. Once everything settled, he was sure both women would have come to like each other. Now he acknowledged that there would be difficulties outside of how he would have made a relationship with both of the women work. It all seems so foolish now. Such a naïve fool he was. He should have known better; he did know better.

He told himself when taking Lyanna he would, one day, make her his wife and his second queen. It felt right to him; after all she would give birth to his child. He told himself that other men in his lineage had more than one wife; but, even in those times when the king married two women they had been sisters first and both equal upon time of marriage. He ignored that others would not see them as equal. Elia had already given him his daughter and an heir and some would have taken his crowning of Lyanna at Harrenhal as a sign of favoring her over Elia. There would have been more to overcome than that and not just on his part.

Though he delivered a victory he could imagine his father would have seen his actions as a plot against him and would have sought to tear down everything he held dear. When Elia and Ser Jaime recounted his father's actions and their dreams, he could not help but think of her and how Lyanna would have reacted in the same circumstances, a life with his father. His father's opinions held no weight for him, but, his father just to be cruel would have openly "preferred" Elia to Lyanna, even if he hated Elia. For his father she had Targaryen blood; had given the realm an indisputable, legal, heir in Aegon; "she kept to her place"; and though it was under duress her presence afforded him Dornish spears while Lyanna was at the center of the troubles with "those who would rebel against him" who were her folk. Even if she was the daughter of kings, Aerys would have waxed poetic about the way King Torrhen had been a king who knelt, even if it was to their forefather.

His father would not have been kind to Lyanna. Lyanna would have chafed under Aerys and would have fought his father; the man who ordered the men in her family to die. His father would have been only too happy to let her die, in turn, because of it.

Even if he managed to depose his father, he could imagine Lyanna would have been unhappy him. When he left the Tower what Lyanna felt for him turned sour because he chose to fight; fight for the man who killed her family though he tried to explain that it was a fight he needed to fight for himself and for them. Had she lived perhaps like Elia she would have forgiven him, but, she would not have been happy after; not with the scrutiny; not with the only life he could have given her; the type of life she wished to be free from.

For what they did, the cost of wanting to be together, it would have been expected that she live the life of a princess and then a queen; a more restrictive life than that of a high-born lady. Despite excelling at such a life she would have hated it.

It would have been worse because of how others would see her; what others would say about her because she would not deny that it was her choice to avoid the betrothal her father sought for her and that it was her choice to go away with him. Every piece of vitriol they would not direct at him would have been heaped upon her; each casualty of the war they started would have been laid at her feet. They may curse him under their breaths, as they should, but, they would have cursed her more openly because she dared. He had dared far more, but, it would be seen as her fault. She would have fought against it, hard, and she would have been hated even more for it.

Though she is dead none of that matters, but, had she lived that would have been his doing; because of him.

He sits in the nursery looking at their child and he can not help but think of her and what he had done and what he had not done. Because of that letter he remembers all that he wished to forget.

Damn that letter, damn the dreams he had, and damn himself.

It is not long before he got up to leave. He bent a bit to rest his hand on Aegon's head and though his hand felt heavier he did the same with Jon before quietly walking out of the room.

* * *

He went to the practice yard. He needed to speak to Elia about the letter and other things they had not truly addressed.

The sounds of shouts and cheering, both of grown adults and greet him first.

As Ser Oswell said, Oberyn was indeed, sparring with Ser Jaime. As the other knight had said his good-brother was completely serious about testing his good-brother. Both men were sheathed in armor; Oberyn's red and white and Ser Jaime's white, both with the respective family crests emblazoned on the fronts of both. Though the armor was richly appointed and of good quality the dust of the field clung to it. Clearly this "skirmish" had been going on for some time.

Rhaegar took in the audience present. Predictably, Viserys was sitting on a low wall, watching the goings on in front of him intently; his expression, admiring. He was cheering loudly; who he favored, Rhaegar could only guess. His brother idolized both of these men. Next to him sat Doran's Arianne and Oberyn's oldest three girls. They were whooping and carrying on just as loudly. He was certain they would favor Oberyn. All five of them, quite thoroughly forgetting themselves, were intermittently shouting out instructions to the two men who now were circling one another; as if either man, skilled as they were would listen. Arthur, who had been watching just as intently, caught his eyes and nodded in his direction before swiftly turning his attention to the two swordsmen.

A gasp rang out as Oberyn, catching Ser Jaime in a precarious position, laughed aloud and raised his sword hand, poised to strike a devastating blow. Ser Jaime was just able to duck out of the way before Oberyn's hand fell. Still laughing Oberyn charged forward only for Ser Jaime to settle his footing and try for a blow of his own though it landed on Oberyn's shield. A delighted laugh rang out. He turned; recognizing the laugh was from Ser Jaime's twin and Oberyn's wife, Princess Cersei. Evidently, the woman's loyalties were divided, but, he did not think too much about it.

Next to her was his quarry. Elia, for her part, was also completely focused on the scrap going on in front of her. She loved her brother well and would support him, but, Rhaegar knew the knight was a friend to her as well. As he made his way to her, he saw how she leaned forward, clearly interested. Though she did not take up a blade herself, she knew how. Even though her health had been delicate, being raised in Dorne did have certain advantages for high-born women. Viserys recounted enough times of the blithe way Princess Arianne boasted about Dornish princesses not shying away from blades because they could use their own.

As he sidled to stand almost next to her, her attention was focused to where Ser Jaime pushed forward, forcing Oberyn to engage each other's swords. He stepped closer and because she felt someone next to her. Seeing who it was she smiled at him. She said nothing, but, she pressed against him though her attention returned to where Oberyn deflected Ser Jaime's blow to thrust forward sending Ser Jaime back a step. As the two men carried on and back and forth carried on Rhaegar put a hand to the small of her back and pressed in closer, to speak into her ear; forcing her to look at him again and raise an eyebrow.

Her expression showed how curious she was at his behavior. "Yes?"

He kept his voice low. "Shall we go inside? I wish to speak to you alone."

She turned fully and leaned back on the fence she had been bracing on. That action caused her good-sister's attention turned from the flurry of blows being struck to stare at them. Seeing that, Elia smiled a bit, "As you wish." Murmuring a few words to her companion she turned to join him.

He tucked her arm into his and they walked away with Ser Barristan following them at a slight distance.

When they were firmly ensconced, sitting next to another, he finally spoke.

He gestured to the piece of paper with a tilt of his hand. "I received a letter this morning."

She looked at it briefly; vaguely amused but no less curious, "I see that. Who is this letter from?" He can read the unvoiced question in her voice. One single letter would not usually cause this sort of reaction.

"Lord Stark." Only two words, but, the name contains much meaning for the both of them.

That had not been something she had expected. A myriad of expressions flew past on her face before she simply sighed, "I see."

"Yes, quite." When he said nothing more, she prompts, "What does Lord Stark say?" She looks at the letter again though she makes no move to read it.

"They reached Winterfell safely." She nods. It was to be expected. Lord Stark's party left King's Landing some time ago.

She wets her lip before speaking again. "Anything else?" She will not rush anything from him, but, her interest is well and truly peaked.

"Their sojourn North took longer than they expected because it also included their stay in the Riverlands". This pronouncement took her aback, but, her face became blank quickly after. Rhaegar cannot help himself and stall what he truly wants to talk about.

"Yes, I do remember Lord Hoster saying something to that effect." Lady Stark was of the Riverlands and Lord Hoster's youngest son had been left behind; it was understandable that the Master of Laws would welcome such a thing.

"Was there more?"

"He inquires of Jon's health." Despite the strained beginning Elia had became accustomed to his son, perhaps loved him in her own way. Lyanna would be the more difficult subject; but, not only for her.

She smiles fondly; more likely because of Jon, not Ned Stark. "Quite right." What more of a response would he have expected from her? She knew from him that he would keep Ned Stark informed of Jon's evolution. Rhaegar recognizes that the tone of her voice is positive. It seemed Elia knew something of Ned Stark and whatever it is was something she approved of.

She looks at him. "Was there more?" It was plain to her that none of the subjects they touched across were not worth this level of secrecy.

"Yes there was more. Lord Stark also asked if my decision to keep Jon with us remained firm." This was met with silence. She said nothing for minutes, but she frowned and bit her lip.

She sighed, but, the line of her back showed how tense she was. "I trust it has." He looks at her frowning and so she elaborates. "I trust the decision remains firm; that Jon would stay with us."

She said it as though it was a statement and he notices the 'with us' not 'with you'. He brought Jon here with the intent of having his son join his household and much to his chagrin he remembered his son had been more welcome than he had been.

This time it was his turn to sigh. "It has; however…" Rhaegar both desires to keep his son with him, but, that letter and those memories…

Her eyes narrowed. "However, what Rhaegar?"

"I can not help but think we should consider it, especially if Lord Stark is willing."

Her lips pursed. "Why?" He wonders at her questioning this. Most women would have welcomed her husband's children to be elsewhere. It seems his wife is truly not other women.

"You are certain you wish for him to stay with us?"

"He has been with us for months, Rhaegar. Is it not too late to address the subject now?"

"Lord Stark-"

"Lord Stark offered once before and we refused. You refused." He cannot deny that.

"I never gave it considerable thought before." He has now…

"Then why now, when things are settled? Why bother? Aegon and Daenerys are far too young for now, but, Viserys and Rhaenys would wonder where he went and why he is no longer here. They would not understand." The mulish look she gives him reminds him of her younger brother. "They would wonder and want to know. What could we tell them?"

Her questions both soothe and distress him. He knows he would have to answer to his children one day; one way or another. But, it is not only the children he would have to answer to.

"Lyanna." There, he said it. Now there was no possible way she would fail to understand.

Her jaw clenched in a way which was reminiscent of Stannis Baratheon. She takes a long breath before speaking; her voice strained in an effort to keep level. "What of her?" Was his public relationship with another woman not enough of a reason for his wife?

"I look at him and think of her." For most women it would be more than enough.

"While I do not remember much of what she looks, looked, like, but, do you not think I fail to think of you and her together?" It clearly pains her still, but, not enough of a reason to want his son gone from her house.

"And that does not hurt you?" He knows he picks at a wound, but, he finds himself compelled.

She is nearly breathless when she says, "Of course it does."

"Then why would you wish to keep Jon with us?" If Lyanna and Jon's existence pains her and she does not wish the tangible symbol of her disgrace gone, what does that say about him?

"Jon has done nothing to deserve being separated from you, his brother or his sister." A practical response saying nothing of how she feels about the subject.

"Even if he is Lyanna's and not yours?" The ghost of Lyanna will always be there for him, but, he wants to know if Lyanna will be there for Elia as well.

Her face twists and nearly crumbles. She whispers, "I know whose child he is, Rhaegar. Everyone does. You knew that when you brought him here. But, I accepted it and I accepted him. Whoever his mother was, he is yours. That will not change." This was said with a bit of an edge. Her voice also became harsher. He also notes she had yet to say 'Lyanna by name'.

"You say that now, but, when he grows, will you say the same? Would you have accepted him here with us if Lyanna had been alive? Would you have accepted her as my other wife and queen?"

She stands, furious. "Why do you ask this now? When you never thought to ask before! You simply brought him for me like a victory present. But, that is what he was, was he not? A victory present from a war you fought for another woman." Her voice grows louder and fiercer.

"I thought you had forgiven me for Lyanna!" He stands as well, facing her. His blood rushes in his ears.

"Forgiven is not forgotten!" No, he supposes, it is not.

"If it still pains you then why would you fight my sending him away?"

They almost do not here the knock on the door. It is Ser Barristan, looking quite uneasy, ducking his head into the door. The both of them stiffen. Coming back to their senses, they flush and visibly deflate. Rhaegar knows he should have acted more appropriately.

"Your Graces?" The knight truly does not wish to ask, but, seeing to their safety is a part of his duties.

Rhaegar sighs waves the other man off. He does not need men of his Kingsguard to come to know what he and Elia speak of. "It is quite alright Ser Barristan. You may go."

The other man hesitates, but, leaves when they both sit down.

She sighs again. "I do not think I would take well to be parted from him; not anymore."

"You could have once." It is said as a statement, but, it is a question.

"Yes, I could have parted with him quite easily, but, that time has come and gone." She said this flatly. But, he heard the tiredness in her voice and the affection for his son. She might have not wanted Jon to live with them, but, now, he left it too late. It seems he excels at that.

"You grew to love him." He is honestly surprised. He knew she would do her duty but this was unexpected. In truth he supposed he should be accustomed to that. He could not imagine what other women would do under the same circumstances, but, he could imagine anyone else would have demanded his son be kept with a nurse.

"Yes." There was no indignation in her voice. What she said was a simple truth.

"I need you to be sure. I will not ask again. I can not ask again." He does not want to have this conversation again. That he speaks of this the once is enough to sicken him.

"Then why ask at all?"

'I look at him and I cannot help but be reminded of her."

She looks at him. She swallows. She breathes out. "If it is her memory which makes you consider sending him away then why did you bring him here?"

He sighs. "I thought it was the right thing to do under the circumstances. She died and he is my son. I love him; I do, but, there are times that I can only just stand to look at him for very long because it is not only Lyanna that I see when I look at him."

"What more is it that you see in him?"

He closes his eyes. "When I look at him I see my mistakes, even those that have little to do with him and Lyanna a small part. You remember. I was so focused on the future that I forgot to think about the way things were. I wronged so many. I do not have to tell you how I wronged you, but, there are countless other ways I have erred. Perhaps if I had not taken her; perhaps if I had not chosen her she would have been alive. She was so young and I knew better. But, it was not just her. I wronged the kingdom by not deposing my father. I knew what he was, but, I did nothing to stop him, instead I left with Lyanna; leaving when I should have done my best to curb my father. When I left, he killed men; the men you watched die. Those men came for me. Men came to their deaths because of what I had done. If I had done what I should have, acted as I ought to have and had not taken Lyanna; had I not tried for a third child there would have been no war and many would not have lost their lives. All of it is so tied together and when I see him I remember."

She looks at him sadly. "Perhaps, but, we can not live on what could have come to pass had things been different; no matter how sweet that sounds. Lyanna will not be here and Jon will remain your son. I will never be able to know what my life would have been if you never crowned Lyanna Queen of Love and Beauty or if you had not left with her. I cannot know what Aerys would have done or how it would have been if you deposed him. I will never know what it is like just to have children borne from me about me. I only know that I am here now with you. Nothing will change what happened and I can not forget. Even if Ned Stark is willing to foster Jon, no matter where you could send him, no matter where he could go, be it in Westeros or Essos, he will forever be your son. Your memories and thoughts will not go away simply because he does. It is no different for me."

"Then what would you have me do?"

"Accept what you cannot change."

He laughs, but, the laugh is soft and hollow to his own ears. "It is not that simple."

She takes his arm, but, she bites her lip before speaking. "No, it is not and it never will be, but, there are things we can not change and it helps to acknowledge that."

He leans into her. "He is my son, but, it is hard to look at him sometimes. How can I accept that?"

"The same way I know he is not my son". She looks at him, a hard look on her face. "It helps to remember he did not cause any of it. If it was right to bring him here, then it is right that he would stay." What she says pains him, but, it does not negate the truth of what she says.

He nods. To change that now would do more harm than good. What happened and what he had done will not change, but, it is not for him to send Jon away because of his guilt. His guilt is for him to bear; not something he should punish his son for.

"Lord Stark will still require a letter."

Laughter bubbles from her. "Then send him one."

"There is not much to say." Outside of responding to Ned Stark's queries there is not much he is willing to say to the other lord, even in a letter

"You have to send him something. Let me see the letter." He wordlessly passes the scrap of paper to her.

"It is rather short." He barks out a broken laugh of his own.

"I suppose that means I do not have to write a lengthy one in response." He is grateful for that at least. He gets up and pulls out some parchment and something to write with from a nearby table.

Once he is done writing he looks at what he wrote. There is not much written on it, but, it is enough; enough for Ned Stark, when he comes to read it, to know what he wished and enough for Rhaegar to acknowledge the course he is on now is one on which he will remain firm.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it's not particularly graphic there is nudity in the chapter.

Jon Arryn sat in his Solar with only papers and tomes to keep his company. Ser Gerold had been with him in the morning but the other man had his own duties to see to. Truthfully, he was not in the mood for company and so tried to busy himself with work.

He sighed; even if he had mountains of both around him it would offer his mind no respite. If the King had been any other sort of man there would have been more for him to do as Hand, though there was plenty to do, but, it seemed as though his talk with the king about his duties and responsibilities had gone better than he imagined it would. It is times like these when Jon thinks it would have been better if his advice had not taken so well.

In the end he sat back and closed his eyes. Trying to keep himself occupied was doing him no favors and if he was to work then he would need to work properly or not bother trying at all. It would be beneath him to try and do work when his mind was clearly occupied elsewhere.

There would be no escape from the worries which plagued him. The first things that bothered him were the two letters he received recently. He pulled out the two well-read letters from the drawer he put them in. One letter was from his home and the other from the North. Ordinarily a letter from either place would fill him with a sense of happiness and peace, but, neither of these two allowed for it.

The one in the Vale was from his castellan. At first he had thought it was simply a routine missive. He would not been surprised to see a missive from the Eyrie containing information he required from his castellan about the usual business related to the running of his household. What had shocked him was this letter contained information about Baratheons' arrival and stay at the Eyrie. It seemed that snow fell heavily and it caused a delay with respect to the Baratheons' plans to leave and there had been other lords of the Vale present. He knew that the Eyrie was in well managed in the castellan's hands, but, Jon was concerned about Lord Baratheon.

Though he had not expected the Baratheon party to remain in the Eyrie for very long, it filled him with great unease. He knew Lord Stannis was a good man, if a bit aloof, but, in his own mind he could not compare him to Robert and he was sure the other lords of the Vale would find it difficult not to do the same. It was unfair, but, many in the Vale knew, loved, and mourned Robert dearly; and Stannis, though he was his brother, they were not accustomed to and did not know at all. Though he knew that given the chance, with the lessons he taught him Robert could have been a worthy Lord of Storm's End, he can not help but feel responsible for the fractured state of the relationship between the elder Baratheon brothers; the relationship which now can never be mended. Stannis had only so rarely spoke to him about Robert and now he was in the Eyrie, where his brother lived happily and away from him, at that. Still, it did relieve him that Stannis had his own wife and family with him, though Lady Ashara would be seen as unusual in her own right. Still, knowing as he did of his own marriage a marriage borne of careful necessity such as that one was not an easy one entered into or maintained. Though he did not know Lord Stannis as much as he liked where before he had less in the past with Robert's infrequent mentions, he still was concerned.

The letter from the North was not an easy one to read either. As much as getting a letter from Ned would please him, it worried him. There was nothing untoward about it, but, it was a difficult one to read for many reasons. His former ward admitted to writing a letter to the King where he asked, yet again, to foster his nephew. On one hand, he was proud that Ned had thought to ask again; it showed Jon that his once-ward grew to be an honorable man. That Ned was willing to make peace with the King and he likes to think that his tutelage had contributed greatly to that. Still, he was concerned; not only because of how King Rhaegar would react to Ned's request or the Queen, for that matter. Ned was a good man and would make a good lord, but, Jon had worried about the reasons Ned had for making the offer once again. Ned had lost so much in the war, much of his family, and Jon when he read the letter had wondered if Ned asked to foster his nephew more because he wanted to rebuild his family with what was left of it and less because he thought it was for the best of the child.

He would not usually ascribe such a less than altruistic motives to anyone, much less one such person who he loved dearly, but, Jon knew he was guilty of doing the same and knew that such a thing could only cause disappointment. He knew his fears were baseless because Ned was such a good man, but, he could not help the thought as it came to mind though there was nothing insidious about Ned's proposal.

In fact, much of the letter is filled what should have been enough cause to ease his mind, but, it had not accomplished that. When he first began to read the letter he could not fight the fond smile that crept across his face when Ned talked so proudly of his boy, Robb, though the name of the child caused an ache in his chest when he remembered who Ned named the boy for. Ned also spoke of his lady wife. It made him happy to think of how his ward has done for himself, but, Ned's words reinforced his troubles with his own wife who was Lady Stark's sister.

Lysa. Even more than Stannis or Ned it was Lysa who drove him to such pained distraction. He had hoped to invite Lysa to sit with him, but, his lady wife wished to spend the day with her uncle. That was no hardship; Ser Brynden was a man he respected and he would not begrudge her time with her family if it comforted her. But, even if the circumstances been different he was in no mood to fight Lysa and would not force her into doing something she had not wanted to do; not now. If letting her do what she wished made her more agreeable that he would allow much more. He had done enough by simply marrying her.

He thinks back to the Tully's house words of Family, Duty, Honor and how much they appealed to him then when he first married her. But, now they gave him no comfort. When he married Lysa he had known she had not been virginal. He tries not to find fault with her for it; after all, he knew she had given her maidenhead to someone else, but, he was a man who valued honor highly and could not quite bring himself to forgive her lack of it. Even more than that, he could not forgive that she valued something else far more highly than not only her honor, but, that of her family. As to duty, she had done hers and married him as her father bid, but, he knew she only did her duty as a wife with great reluctance. As for family, he had been unlucky for so many years; losing both wives, children, and his brother. In accepting Ned and Robert as his wards he tried to create a family of his own and now both his beloved nephew Elbert and Robert are both gone and Ned is just so far away.

Though her honor was lost to him and her duty begrudging he had hoped Lysa could have been the making of his family, but, not even Lysa's news about her moon's blood or the Maester's most recent confirmation of her pregnancy softened her towards him. Even with what should be cause for mutual happiness, more often than not Lysa's door was barred to him; as was her mind and her heart.

He could forgive her somewhat; she was young and unhappy. She knew why he married her; others knew of it as well. She married him because not many others of their station would have her and he married her because he knew of what tying himself to her would afford him; not because he held affection for her or held her in high regard. He also knew what he was and could seem like, especially to someone of her age. He was no knight from a song and his best days, his best years even, were behind him. If he could find fault with her so easily; she was no less capable of finding fault with him. He was not a man who could fail to accept truths when they came his way and he could not fully fault her for resenting him for it, but, her rejection of him tasted bitter.

He was the one who chose to marry her and it made neither of them happy, but, there was only so little both could do about it. The worst of it was that was his doing.

Marriage and family ought to bring a person peace and happiness, but, even though he took a marriage and tried to forge a family with it, peace and happiness eluded him as it had for sometime now.

With a sigh, Jon pulls the ledger he had been examining back towards him. If he cannot be at peace or happy it just as well that he can keep busy.

* * *

It was cold, Ashara Dayne, no, _Baratheon_ , she corrected herself, thought. She smiles faintly. Her Dornish blood is not suited to this cold, but, then, she cannot say she is of Dorne anymore; not entirely. It's been some time since her wedding she is still not used to considering herself Lady Baratheon, though she knows she is.

Perhaps when they finally got to Storm's End she would get used to being called Lady Baratheon. In time, she would become used to feeling as though she could call herself that. Until that time she would have to continually remind herself of her new identity. Perhaps she would feel as though she deserved to call herself Lady Baratheon if she felt more like the wife of the Lord of Storm's End. Stannis was not unkind to her, and they had shared one another's beds whilst at King's Landing, but, being at the Eyrie showed her that the cold of the Eyrie was not the only coldness she would have to live with.

They tarried longer than she expected and her husband hoped, but, there was nothing for it; when they reached the Vale it had been snowing. It even snowed last night. It was still dangerous to travel. There was the child, well, children to consider. Robert's girl, Mya, was a shy thing with them, but, it was to be expected. Though Mya knew who her father was, Robert had been dead for some time and then gone for longer than that. Of course, neither she nor Stannis were Robert; nor could they ever be.

Ashara looked at where her daughter and her newly met niece played. Though both girls had been standoffish with one another when they first met, it was a relief that girls got on well now. Even if they were both bastards in the eyes of most men they would have one another to be friends. Still, it would be cruel to rip the girl from familiar surroundings when they were still strangers to her and travelling with children was never easy.

Of course, there was Renly as well. In the first days after they left the capital the boy had been sullen. He had adjusted so well at the capitol and had not wanted to leave. When he was faced with the idea of having no male company his age he had been taciturn, but, much to her and Stannis' relief the boy settled down eventually. It likely helped that there were plenty of Lords in the Vale who had boys his age, but, they would leave here soon enough again.

Still, while the children were happy for now and though she was afforded fine rooms, this was not her place and it held no great meaning for her. Stannis would say that it was a place just like any other, but, this was the place his brother called home for many a year. This was a place his brother loved; it was a place he had never ventured and it represented a life he had no part of. Though he said nothing, he hated it here.

He had told her once that he and Robert had not been close, that he was fairly certain Robert saw Ned Stark as more of his brother, and that he felt very little towards Robert, but, Ashara saw it as the lie it was. If it was true, then Stannis would not be uncomfortable here as he was. He had told her that he had not wanted to come, but, that, "it was his duty" and he could not forsake it. If he felt so little for Robert, he would not have accepted his daughter into his household. Most in Westeros would not find caring for one's brother's bastards to be any sort of duty. Ashara smiled fondly, looking at where Robert's Mya and her Alya were playing; her husband was most definitely not like men and she was glad for it.

Though he would not talk to other men about Robert, he would talk about him to her. Not much, but, he would mention some things. Renly, bolstered by the tales told by the lords of the Vale, would ask for some stories and though Stannis was reticent, he would not completely disavow speaking about Robert entirely. It was absurd how pleased sometimes Ashara felt when her husband would unbend in such ways, but it was the truth.

Stannis would not say he wished to be gone; but, one would have to be a fool not to know it.

She shook her head ruefully; her husband was a serious sort of man most of the time, but, being in the Vale did not agree with him. Though he was officially a traitor at the time of his death, Robert was remembered fondly by many who lived in the Vale. After all, their own Lord Paramount had been a traitor as well; that was not the cause of their unease. Though they mourned Lord Robert's loss and would have been happy to see most of Lord Robert's family was intact, it was still easy to see how they were disappointed that though Stannis may have shared his brother's looks to some degree and was only a year younger, he was cut from a vastly different cloth.

Stannis, of course, responded to them in kind. Though he tried not to be cruel or cutting about it, he remained aloof and uncomfortable and many were taken aback with Stannis' unwillingness to bend when the other lords of the Vale would try to speak about Lord Robert with him. In the first days there would be effusively spoken stories about Lord Robert, some that included Lord Stark, but, that stopped soon enough when it became obvious that Stannis would become completely be closed to them when Robert was mentioned.

These lords of the Vale knew her husband to be a good man and were grateful that he would do right by Mya as much as he was able; but, he was not Robert. Most of these lords did not quite know what to make of her either. She was of Dorne and her family had been supporters of the Targaryens, and she expected there would be difficulties with that and that she had a bastard of her own. But, they remembered that Lord Ned Stark just as fondly as they did Lord Robert and they also knew of what happened to Brandon and so they were not mistrustful of her now; not with the way Robert's girl responded to her. It relieved her, but, it would not matter because this wasn't their place. Still, her husband ought not to have just sour memories of a place his brother once lived. He would be haunted enough by the memories at his own home.

Looking around the Great Hall of the Eyrie she wonders what the one at Storm's End is like. She remembered fondly the one at Starfall and for all that she misses Elia, less fondly the one at King's Landing, but, she only has vague descriptions of the one at Storm's End. She was often there when Renly would tell the girls stories about Storm's End within her hearing. She wonders what living at Storm's End would be like. A year ago; mere months ago even, she would have scoffed at the idea of her asking questions. Though it seemed rather foolish, ever since they left King's Landing she would often find herself trying to picture it in her mind.

In the end, they would have to remain at the Eyrie until the snow which fell on the roads out of the Vale after they arrived melted and the way was clear. Still, she did not like how empty the Eyrie seemed to be. Perhaps it would have been better for Lord Arryn and Lady Lysa to be here with them; for all that she had not interacted with Lady Lysa over much; it would have been nice to be in familiar company. True, there was the castellan and his lady wife, but, still it was empty. No matter, she thought, they would be gone soon. Both she and Stannis would have to bear it. She smiled thinking of one way to make the experience bearable; only if her husband would agree.

"The snow had stopped, my lady." The now familiar voice cut through her reverie and she turned to see her husband. As usual, he was dressed, somberly, in black, though the cuffs and collar had gold.

She found herself smiling, "Is that right, Stannis?" She stressed his name, hoping he would get the hint.

Stannis came to sit next to her; close enough to touch but he does not touch her and she does not try either. He nodded. "In two days we will leave, Ashara." She smiles at the equal amounts of stress when saying her name.

"Will the roads be clear enough? Perhaps it might snow again." She sees no reason to stay for longer than necessary, and certainly has no desire to, but, it would not do to leave such things to chance.

He frowns at her; as though it is unfeasible that anyone would question him, but, she had come to understand that was simply his way. "Lord Arryn's castellan seems to think the snow would cease for enough of time for us to leave properly."

She nods back. "Good."

He stayed silent for a minute, but, he looked as though he was fighting an internal debate. She prompted him, "Yes?"

"I can have someone to assist you with our things; if you require it." She fought off the smile threatening to creep onto her face. That was as close as his asking if she wanted help that she would get from him. Still, it was kind of him to ask.

"No, I think I have it." It was true. Even with packing for the five of them they did not have many things with them.

He frowned, "Are you positive?"

"Yes." She would not need the help; not truly. Because it snowed when they made their way up the mountain the wheelhouse had to stay housed at the base of the mountain with many of their items remaining behind as well. It would have been impractical to bring up all of their things when they had to ride mules up to the Eyrie and they had not expected to stay here for very long.

He looks at her, "Very well." With that he turned and said no more to her. She turned her attention to where his was and seeing the girls, she had to break the silence once more.

"Where is Renly?" She had not seen her good-brother at all since breakfast.

"Here I am!"

They turned to see him coming through the door. "There is no need to run, Renly."

Renly rolled his eyes at his brother's command while Ashara hid a smile behind her hand. Renly slowed his pace all the same. Renly came to sit beside her and wrapped his arm around hers; smiling brightly. She was sure he would grow to be a charmer.

"The snow stopped." Her lips twitched. Stannis had said nearly the same thing to her.

"Yes, I know."

"Does that mean we will leave soon?" The child inquired softly.

This time Stannis spoke up, "We will be leaving in two days."

"That soon?"

Stannis looked at him, frowning deeply. "We have been here long enough. Certainly, you want to go back home."

Renly rolled his eyes again and Stannis started to grind his teeth. Ashara thinks she might be fighting a losing battle in trying to get her husband to stop that. The boy still spoke as he rose and started to walk to make his way across the room to where the girls were. "Of course, Mya and Alya have never seen Storm's End."

Ashara turned to her husband again. "You are quite adamant that we are to leave in two days."

"I would leave now if I could." She does not doubt that for a second.

She leaned in slightly. She noticed how he stiffened even now; but, much to her pleasure he had not flinched away. "Has the hospitality of the Vale been that lacking?"

He frowned at her, but, there was no heat in it at all, "No, and you know I wished to leave as soon as possible." That was true; she did know it.

She mused, "It does not leave that much time then…"

He looks confusedly at her, "Time for what? You said you did not need help to pack." She smothers a laugh. Her husband would think of that.

She fights to keep the grin off of her face as she leans in to whisper in his ear so that only he can hear her, "Would you come to my rooms tonight?"

He stares at her; not understanding. She presses herself into his side and takes his hand, "Oh."

She cannot help the smile which stretches across her face, "Yes, 'oh.'"

He frowns, and keeps his voice low, "Do you not think it improper?" She almost smiles at the response. That was not a refusal, but, she understands his hesitance. They are in someone else's home, but, the host is away and most of Westeros thinks her to be very 'improper' already.

She tilts her head at him, smiling, "Since when it is improper for a husband to take his marital rights?"

He frowns more deeply, "And this is the proper venue for that?"

"Why not? We are newly married. One does expect some things."

He sends her a look, "That is not what I meant."

Though he has not pulled his hand from hers or moved to separate them, this was going much slower than she hoped. Finally, she settles on a different tact, "I would have you do your duty."

He narrows his eyes at her, "My duty?"

"Yes, your duty and mine."

He snorts, "And what duty is that?"

"The duty of siring a proper heir for the house of Baratheon."

He looks at her, "That is not why you want me to come to your rooms." It is times like these where his bluntness is not a particularly attractive quality.

She exhales a breath. She spares one glance to where the children are occupied. She thinks there is nothing for it then. She turns to Stannis and kisses him, hard. Though he freezes in shock for a moment, she is relieved when she feels him relax and begin to respond to her. She counts it a victory when she feels his hand in her hair.

When they separate, she huffs out, "Siring heirs may not be the reason why I want this, but, you are my husband and I am your wife. That will not change no matter the location and I want you to join me in my rooms."

He nods. "Very well, I will come to your rooms tonight."

This time, it is she who frowns, "Try not to sound so put out about it, my lord."

He looks at her confusedly, "I am not, as you say, 'put out'. I agreed, did I not? And since when is it, 'my lord' again?"

She stares at him, "Sometimes, I do not understand you."

"Nor I, you." His expression was incredibly earnest.

"What a fine pair we are", she cannot help but grouse. That does not stop her from laying her head on his shoulder.

Rather stiffly, he asks, "Are your histrionics quite done?" Despite his rather pointed question, he does not move away from her.

She turns to make sure he does not see her smile. No, she definitely imagined a marriage such as this, but, she cannot say she regretted it.

* * *

Rhaegar sighs as he looks down at the practice field from his vantage point. He was thankful he had some time to himself. Well, he was not completely by himself, not with Ser Oswell some feet away, but, he was in no mood for company who insisted on making superfluous conversation. He had his fill of it yesterday watching likes of Lord Emmon Frey and Lord Mace Tyrell in council. He snorted; it was not just them. The inane chatter of most courtiers was no better on most days, but, he had some time before he was due at court. If he had been any other sort of man, he would have left today's audiences to Lord Arryn, but, he was the king, that was his duty.

He frowned as he looked down. He leaned forward to get a better view. The sight of his brother at archery was nothing to question, but, it was rather strange to see Viserys at the practice field with Ser Lucas looking on; both he and the knight were left alone though there were other knights of the household practicing at weaponry as well. What was unusual was that Viserys was without a gaggle of female company that used to flock behind his brother when they were at the practice field.

Much to his pleasure, not that he would voice it in front of his wife though she did know something of his feelings on the subject, Elia's brothers took their wives and children with them back to Dorne. Even better, he remembered hearing from Elia and Ser Jaime that Oberyn had plans on taking Cersei to the Free Cities after they reached Sunspear. Of course that was not the only unusual thing Rhaegar noted.

Usually it was Ser Jaime who took Viserys' lessons, but, the other knight was nowhere to be seen. Now that he thought of it, he had not seen the knight all day. He knew exactly where the others were. Ser Brynden was with his niece, Lady Lysa; Ser Gerold was with his Hand; he had just left Ser Arthur in the nursery; and Ser Barristan had been acting as his representative in a meeting with the City Watch.

He turned to Ser Oswell, "Ser Oswell?"

The man acknowledged him, "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Have you seen Ser Jaime today?"

The other knight frowned at him. "Not that I recall, did Your Grace have need of him?"

He shook his head, "No, nothing like that, but…" He motioned down to where Viserys was; when Ser Oswell saw what he was indicating, he continued, "He usually takes my brother's lessons." Or at least Rhaegar thought he did. He frowned. He ought to show more of an interest in his brother's education. He flushed a bit. Viserys was his responsibility just as much as Aegon and Jon were.

The other man shrugged, "Ser Lucas would know." It was a logical statement. The newest knight of his Kingsguard had bonded well with the second youngest of his brotherhood.

His mind made up, they both made their way to the practice field.

Shortly after, Rhaegar stood silently watching as his brother lifted yet one more arrow. Viserys knew he was here. He could see it in the plant of his brother's feet, the way his brother took a breath and squared his shoulders. He did not want to interrupt.

Viserys' arrow had missed the bull's-eye, but, not by that much. Still, he saw how his brother's shoulders slumped as if in defeat. The young knight patted his shoulders and started to offer some tips for the future. Rhaegar knew a bow was not his choice of a weapon, but, objectively he could tell it was a fine effort.

Seeing his brother he remembered his own childhood when his father would oversee to his education. He had shown no interest in weaponry then and his father had voiced his displeasure at that quite thoroughly. He would not do the same; he would not be the same. Viserys turned to him; waiting for him to say something; anything.

"Well done. Keep trying. It'll come in time. It was far better than any effort I put in weapons when I was your age." While his brother was relieved enough to smile at him, he was thoroughly relieved there was no one here for him to force acknowledgment of his having put very little effort into learning to handle weapons when he was his brother's age.

Viserys picked up the bow and another arrow and Rhaegar had to ask, "Do you not have lessons with the Maester today?"

A jubilant answer in his direction of "Not until later" and with his brother turning his back on him caused him to remember his initial reason for coming down here. Turning to Ser Lucas, "Does not Ser Jaime usually take his lessons?"

Ser Lucas nodded absently, keeping his eyes on the scene in front of him, "Yes, Your Grace, usually he does, but, Her Grace required an escort to the Great Sept. She also said something about it was long past time to trust me with overseeing the Prince's education at least this once."

Rhaegar caught the blush on the young knight's face. He would have rolled his eyes at his if he had not been frowning at the information he was presented with. He had not seen Elia either today and Elia had not told him she had been planning on visiting the Sept, but, why would she take Ser Jaime? "She was here?" The words came out harsher than he hoped.

The tone of his voice must have registered because the younger knight turned to look at him, rather alarmed, "She escorted Prince Viserys down here herself."

"I see." He did not, but, he would have his answers soon.

"It is just as well."

He frowned at that. He turned to Ser Lucas. "How do you mean?"

The knight looked uncomfortable, as if that was something had not meant to say, "Ser Jaime had been out of sorts recently. He seemed unwell." He stopped; obviously wishing to say no more; clearly not feeling as though it was not his right and Rhaegar left it alone. He had not noticed much about Ser Jaime, but, he supposed this knight would know. Still, if there was something he should have, but, his attention had been elsewhere and of course, Ser Jaime, though amiable, did not invite him into his confidence overmuch. He would find out later.

Rhaegar did not have to wait for very long to find out what that meant as Elia and Ser Jaime could be seen walking in their direction. There was nothing strange about their posture, but, Rhaegar had seen the way they stopped speaking when they reached the group. He had noticed his wife's arm curled around the knights and she gave his arm a little squeeze before she separated from him.

Rhaegar reached for her hand which she took easily enough and as if on impulse he had kissed her cheek.

Once they exchanged greetings Ser Jaime turned to Ser Lucas, "How was it?"

"Quite well. He is getting better. With more practice he should improve greatly."

"Good, good. Then we ought to continue this tomorrow, then." The last was said as a statement, but, Ser Jaime was looking at him and there was a question in his voice.

"I think that would be fine. Just please make sure he gets to the Maester on time." Elia hid a smile behind her hand and the knights within hearing tried to unsuccessfully stifle their laughter; though Ser Jaime nodded in acceptance. He tried to contain his own grimace at the words. Viserys had long since picked up on his distaste for Maester Pycelle and now no one could, and to be fair, no one bothered, to correct that.

With that done with, Rhaegar started to leave though he had noticed the gentle smile his wife sent Ser Jaime's way which he responded to with a bow of the head.

When he escorted her to her chambers as he settled himself on a chair in her boudoir as he watched her pick a dress for her to change in, he broached the subject. "I was surprised to hear you went to the Sept today and with Ser Jaime."

She made a noncommittal noise, "Yes, I had not the opportunity lately. I also wanted to leave some more money to the orphanage. "

He considered that. Elia had kept herself very busy lately and had not visited the Sept with great frequency. While neither he nor his wife was particularly devout, but, it would be expected the anointed would visit the Sept with some regularity; and charity could hardly hurt the city, "How much?"

"50 dragons."

He nodded, but, he tried to fight the flush creeping up on the back of his neck. The war, the one he and his father started, had caused an increase in the number of orphans in the city and elsewhere. The least he could do was allow his wife to make some donations once in a while, especially if he had not done it himself.

In the end he just considered the amount his wife donated. He was relieved. It was not a small sum, but, not outrageous either to where the Master of Coin would bother him about it.

"I see. And you took Ser Jaime with you."

Still with her back facing him, she says, "I did." Dress in hand she turns towards him, "It was more than my life's worth for Ser Gerold to find out that I left the Keep without at least one member of the Kingsguard as an escort." As she turns her attention back to where it was, he had let out a bark of a laugh. Ser Gerold was protective of all the members of the family.

"Ser Jaime usually supervises Viserys' lessons, does he not?" He hopes that does not sound like an accusation.

She stepped in front of him and she gives him an undecipherable look. She turned her back to him again. "Yes he does…husband, please can you get that fastening?" He nods. He wonders briefly at this request of hers, but, if his wife wishes to undress in front of him he will not complain; not when it took long enough to simply be allowed back into her chambers with regularity.

For a moment as she slips off the gown his attention is focused on the much appreciated visual in front of him, but, he remembers what he wanted to speak to his wife about.

"Then why take Ser Jaime? Does Viserys not like the way he supervises his lessons." Now he knows he just cast a rather wide net for information. Viserys has only high praise for the knight.

Still nude, she turns back to snort in derision, and with a in a pointed look, "It seems, unlike my husband, when his attention is directed where it should be, his usually remains."

He purses his lips at that. He studies her face for a moment because the thought that she refers to Lyanna and not Ser Jaime swims in his mind. He breathes out in relief because the humor in her face tells him she had no underlying meaning to what she said. Even then, it would be very unwise to ask such questions; it would be foolish to undo the damage that his inappropriate curiosity can cause to their carefully mending relationship. In the end he comes to stand behind her putting his hands around her hips and placing a kiss upon her neck. Speaking softly, "I assure you, my attention is yours. It is just that Ser Lucas had said Ser Jaime has been out of sorts lately."

She frowns, but, eventually concedes. "That is so."

"Would you happen to know why?"

"Yes, I do." Of course she does, he thought darkly. Ser Jaime would speak to his wife far more readily than he would with him; and Rhaegar knows it is not only because Elia's brother married Cersei Lannister. "Well?"

She smirks at him, and steps out of his grasp to move to pull on the other gown. "Why do you want to know?"

"He is a member of my Kingsguard. I ought to know if something ails him, especially if my wife knows of it." It was the truth; but, if his hands move to take his wife's when she goes to fasten the hook on her dress he tells himself it is not because of any sort of jealousy on his part at hers' and the knight's friendship.

She sighs softly, "It is not much of ailment. It will pass. Give it time."

He frowns at her, "I do not know what 'it' is."

She looked at him. She purses her lips. She clearly does not want to disclose something said in confidence, but, she sighed and eventually said, "He misses his sister dearly." Rhaegar is certain some important detail is severely lacking in that explanation because he can not comprehend that pronouncement at all. When Elia said nothing more he prompted with a question.

"What?"

She frowned at him. She restated, "He misses his sister."

He heard that the first time she said it. It still did not make sense the second time. Something on his face must have showed because she quipped, "You look as though I just informed you I could warg into a dragon at will. What is so vexing about a man missing his sister?"

"He misses his sister." His repetition of the words offers no greater insight. Though she said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world he is unsure how that could cause despondency in anyone. Certainly there should be something more than just that. The last time Ser Jaime had been out of sorts was when recounting his father's actions during the war, but, this was nothing to get worried over. He thought about it for a bit. He had noticed Ser Jaime had been rather quiet and businesslike after the Martells had left, but, the knight rarely spoke to him about much outside of his duties. Truthfully, he had not thought much of it. His thoughts were interrupted when Elia sits next to him and started to speak.

"Yes, he misses his sister. Not quite the same way that I miss my brothers…" She frowns, "Well, I know how you feel about my brothers, Oberyn in particular, but, Cersei is his twin. It is only natural that he dislikes being parted from her again. Well, I suppose one just has to know what that is like to have a sibling close in age." Hearing the sadness in her voice he pulled her closer to him so she is flush next to him. If Ashara's leaving left her in a cloud of sadness, Oberyn's nearly left her in mourning, if mourning could be done for the living. Of course he knew he had been jubilant to see Oberyn leave. Then again, before Oberyn climbed atop his horse he threatened his life again. As it happened, he was still not accustomed to that rather unfortunate habit of his good-brother's.

With his arm around her he spoke into her ear. "That is not particularly fair, wife. I do know the love one can have for a sibling, no matter how much of a difference in age there is." Thinking back to his relationship with his siblings he is certain he loves them, but, he was far too grown to have much to do with Viserys before the war and now his dealings with him are more paternal than anything else. As for Daenerys, she was a girl child and even younger than his youngest child. He had only come to know of her after she was born. No, there was not much fraternal about his relationship with is siblings. He never put much thought into it before, and he supposes he never truly had a cause to, but, now he wonders if that is odd.

"I suppose you are correct…" She stops and turns to look at him and laughs.

"What?"

"I was just thinking."

Slowly, he asks, "About what?"

"If circumstances were different…" He was almost reluctant to ask; her expression worried him. Before she was solemn, now it looked as though laughter was threatening to bubble up from her.

She finally lets out a snicker, "If Viserys had been born a few years older and a girl child, forget that you married me, you might have married a sibling after all." She did laugh at that.

He almost chokes on the words he was going to say. He shook his head to clear out the vision of the image of a feminine version of Viserys his mind manufactured. Shuddering, looking at his wife and glaring, but it held very little heat, "By the gods, Elia, what a horrifying thought. There is nothing amusing about that at all." His wife's wit was dangerous.

She scoffs good-humoredly, "Oh, come now, you would sit here and tell me if you had a sister closer to your age that you would not have been married to her? After all…" She raises an eyebrow, "Is that not what Targaryen's do? Marry one another?"

He could not delude himself enough to think that had such a circumstance existed that would not have been a truth of his life. She looks at him curiously as if she really wanted to know his answer. For a brief moment he wonders if she asked the question to know whether or not his elopement of Lyanna had to do with her being as far away from the Targaryen's as possible.

His arms move to settle tighter on her waist and he moves to kiss her cheek. "Perhaps that may have been true, but, I am thoroughly thankful I had no sibling or close relative available at the time we married and the same holds true now."

That was the truth. For himself, looking at his wife, he knew she was just as different from the women of his family could have been. Though Elia had enough Targaryen blood, she was not Targaryen at all; her looks alone put paid to that. Her bearing, regal as it was, was Martell, not Targaryen. He remembers seeing his mother and his wife together, and though they got on well, the both of them had been unique. He cannot remember ever disliking having Elia as a wife. Though the thought of Lyanna still pains him, he remembers being enthralled by her; her vitality was not like that of anyone he had known. Had he married her; it would have been nothing like if he had already been married to a sister or close relative of his, either. If he married a sister he would have never had the children he did have.

He often remembers the relationship between his parents; how dangerous his father became and how unhappy his mother had been. No, even though the children are still young when the time came, and even though he has other reasons for it, he believes it is best not to continue the custom with them.

So lost in his thoughts he was ill prepared for when a weight which was not previously in his lap settling into it. He looked at his wife who perched herself on top of him in shock. Before he could ask what she was doing she spoke, "Just thankful?"

Though it was said in a jovial tone he could not help but internally cringe when he recalled the last words he said to her. While he is not fond of the game of giving compliments, but, with his own wife he should capable of doing better in that respect than offering "thankful". It is true that he was thankful that she had not left him entirely and accepted his son into their home, but, that does not encapsulate his sentiments at all.

It seemed she was still waiting, but, in the end he gave up looking for something appropriate and in trying to match her tone, he offers, "I did say 'thoroughly'."

She tried to stifle a laugh. In mock dismay she says, "Such a charmer my husband turned out to be."

"I never said –" He had to stifle a groan because the knock at the door, while Elia sighed, moving to sit next to him.

"Enter!" If his voice was a bit sharper than usual it mattered little to him. Ser Gerold ducked his head in. Seeing them together he began rather apologetically, 'I do beg your pardon, Your Graces for the interruption, but, I believe we have a few audiences to get through this afternoon."

Rhaegar sighed. He quite forgot that. In that moment, he wished he could forget it, but, he was who he was and he would do his duty. "Very well Ser Gerold. Let us go."

Turning to Elia, "Will you join me?" He had not often needed her to go with him to Court for hearing petitions, but, today, he wanted her to.

She smiled, "If you wish it."

"I do." He extended his arm and she took it. They walked through the doors together.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Conquest of Dorne was a book mentioned in a Davos chapter in A Storm of Swords. Signs and Portents is a book mentioned in the Asha chapter of A Feast of Crows.
> 
> A/N 2:According to the asoiaf wikiDaeron I, the Young Dragon wrote the Conquest of Dorne; he died after the conquest ultimately failed. Baelor I, Baelor the Blessed, was his brother and successor. Viserys II was their uncle and Baelor’s successor and was rumored to have poised Baelor. Also according to the wiki Jon Arryn was born in 225 AL, & Hoster Tully in 235 AL.

“Lord Arryn?”

“Lord Arryn!”

The older man blinked and then once again before he turned towards Rhaegar. His expression clouded slightly before turning apologetic. He began, “I do beg your pardon, Your Grace, were you saying something?”

Rhaegar frowned as he watched the other man look about the otherwise empty room before the man sighed. It was not like his usually conscientious Hand to be this distracted.

Now, he was well and truly worried. “The other lords left after the meeting finished ago and you have not stirred for some time.”

“Oh, I apologize, Your Grace. I had not known you were waiting upon me to leave. I hope I have not kept you from anything.”

Rhaegar shook his head, “No, Lord Arryn. I was only going to oversee some of Prince Viserys’ lessons, but, they do not start for some time yet.”

“Then please, do not let me keep you. There is no need to trouble yourself on my account, especially because of my woolgathering. I will take your leave. There is much work to be done.”

Rhaegar thought other man’s behavior was quite curious. He had noticed recently the man would keep working well until late. “Is there something which troubles you, my lord?”

The older man ran a hand over his face. “Not troubles me exactly, however, there is something which has been weighing on my mind.”

Rhaegar was surprised. “Such as? There is no trouble in the Eyrie, I hope?”

“No there is no trouble exactly and certainly not there. Thank you for asking, but, it is nothing Your Grace needs to be worried about.”

“Lord Arryn, Jon, you are my Hand. I should know what causes you to be distracted like this. As you say it is not exactly a ‘trouble’, however it is something. Please let me know.” Rhaegar does not want to force the older man to tell him, but, the other man’s demeanor is cause for concern.

His earnestness must have showed, because the older man sighed again, before looking at him, “My wife is with child.”

Rhaegar smiled. A child would lead a man to distraction.

“Congratulations, Lord Arryn!” But, seeing as the other man did not seem particularly enthused, it caused his elation to fade rather quickly.

“Jon, what is the matter? For a man who just admitted he is to be a father you do not look too pleased.”

Rhaegar could not understand why the other man seemed almost morose at the prospect of having a child. He flushed slightly. He remembered being enthusiastic when he learned he was to be a father, he also remembered he had not been particularly animated with joy after the birth of his children. The birth of his daughter was marred by his father’s disappointment in his not having a grandson he could call an heir. The jubilation of the birth of his son was tempered by the worry about Elia’s weakened condition after the birth. He had not been present for the birth of his third child for and much to his shame now he was more disappointed in the sex of the child and surprised at Lyanna’s death.

But, Jon Arryn was a different sort of man and Rhaegar knew the other man had not been very fortunate in that regard with respect to his other two marriages; having one stillborn girl by his first wife. Rhaegar tempered his reaction slightly; remembering that, it was no wonder the man was slightly subdued.

“Did you not want the child?” Rhaegar was sure the other man did. Any other man of their station knew the responsibility and duty which required them to have heirs; however, he felt he ought to ask if that was the point of concern.

Jon looked at him with the most fervent expression he had ever seen on the man’s face, “I have always wanted to be a father.” Rhaegar believed him; still, there was something odd in the way the other man said it.

Rhaegar tried again, “Did the Maester fear something possibly ailing the child?” Perhaps that was it; that was always a concern.

The other man shook his head. “No; nothing as such. It is still early, but, the Maester believes the child is healthy.”

Rhaegar was nonplussed as to what else the issue could be. He could not think of anything else which could trouble the man so.

“I see.” He did not, but, what else could he say? He continues, “That is good, but, my Lord Arryn, Jon, if there is nothing wrong with the child then what plagues you so?”

The older man shook his head once more. Lord Arryn looks at him, “My lady wife, Your Grace.”

His brow furrows because of his incomprehension. As far as Rhaegar could tell, not that he could admit to knowing too much on that score, Lady Lysa seemed to be in perfect health.

Still, he asks, “Is it her health that worries you?”

The other man smiles, but, the smile held a tinge of sadness, “Not her health, or at least not much of her health.” The man breathes out, and looks at him, considering, “She has become withdrawn and unhappy; especially after her sister, Lady Catelyn left for Winterfell and now that Lord Hoster departed. But I worry it is not just that; her lady mother passed away some time ago, but, after childbirth herself. I fear it weighs on her mind and I worry it may affect the child as well.”

That Rhaegar understood; those were reasonable fears. While he could not speak as to what it was like for expectant mothers he remembers how anxious Elia used to be; although in retrospect being heavy with child with having not only his father’s attention but the kingdom’s directed at one’s womb was likely to cause anxiousness, at the very least. Still he remembers he remembers Elia had his mother about to help her and as close as she could get in a sister with Ashara in addition to her other ladies. He closes his eyes and slumps back in his chair slightly, remembering Lyanna had given birth during a war, with a midwife and three members of the Kingsguard with her, only to die from the birth.

He shakes his head and sits back up. He thinks this was not the time to wallow in his own memories. Those might be valid concerns, but, Rhaegar, judging by Jon’s demeanor did not think that was the whole of the matter. Eventually, he says, “If you wish, I can have Her Grace speak to Lady Lysa. She would know more about these things than I would.”

Jon nodded; looking tentative but hopeful. “Yes, I think, if Her Grace is amenable, I would be grateful. My lady wife would probably be more receptive to speaking to someone who had experience in these matters.”

Satisfied with that, he nodded. “Good, I will speak to Her Grace tonight."

* * *

Rhaegar asked Elia to dine with him alone, but, not only because he felt the concerns of his Hand and Lady Lysa should best be handled discreetly.

On formal occasions they dinned together, but, in the Great Hall with many others. Depending on the time of the meal some member of the council or some courtier would join them for the purposes of some business or other. More often than not Rhaenys or Viserys would dine with them as well.

He was also certain this required a certain level of secrecy and delicacy. He almost snorted. He had no doubt Elia was capable of delicacy, but, there was no such thing as secrecy in King's Landing. It was rare enough that he and Elia had the opportunity to dine together alone; much less to speak on certain topics outside of their regular duties, the state of King's Landing and the realm, or the children. Much to his distaste, those in King's Landing were far too eager to learn of the sordid details of the personal secrets of others.

Even if there was no information requiring the utmost tact and secrecy he wished to speak about, alone was a relative term for them, particularly on this night, even with one or more member of the Kingsguard opting to remain at a post outside the chambers. Though they did stay at a respectful distance, what with servants who brought in the food and stayed to take away the cutlery anything more than superficial information disclosed could be used for the purposes of others and this particular conversation was one which had to do with his Hand, not him.

Only they spoke about other subjects first and he found that it was more than merely pleasant and far too infrequent and he found himself unwilling to breach such a serious subject immediately.

"Viserys tells me he asked to attend the next meeting of the Small Council." Elia spoke, after she dabbed at her face with a napkin after finishing the last of her meal.

Rhaegar nodded, and took the last bite of the roast on his plate. If none of the children were present they were a frequently discussed topic between them. Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys were still too young and though they were growing and healthy, their antics and actions were far fewer than Rhaenys' and certainly Viserys'.

He gestured for the servants to start clearing the table, which they do swiftly under Elia's vigilant eye.

He replied, standing up, "He seems to take well to attending. He likes to be involved." Even it was not but sitting in a corner listening to other lords, it was something. It was better than his brother's having no interest in statecraft at all.

She smiled a bit; also standing up as the last of the dishes were cleared away and the servants left the room silently.

She moved to link her arm with his and he led them to a divan in the room. "Has he begun to offer opinions of policies or how to solve grievances, as of yet?"

He returned her smile, "Not particularly. Can you imagine how that would be received by the other council members, especially if his were worthy suggestions or in opposition of their personal aims?"

Elia laughs, "Perhaps you should encourage him in that. It might cause inspiration for the rest of them."

He scoffs, remembering the bickering and the nearly consistent self-serving suggestions. "I assure you, it takes very little to inspire some of their ideas."

She makes a noncommittal sound before speaking again. "I hear you have also started dictating some of the reading Maester Pycelle requires of him."

Rhaegar looks down for a moment; thinking he should have expected that his brother would have told Elia that. "Yes, I have. I thought it best to be more proactive in his education." It was true enough. Viserys and Daenerys were just as much as his responsibility as his own children. Though he could not entirely relate to Viserys, it was far easier with him than it was Rhaenys, and the three, even younger children.

"He tells me that the Maester had told him more about _Signs and Portents_ You are familiar that one; the book of visions written by Daenys Targaryen." Though she gave the appearance of having said this casually that was not just a comment or just a question. He also heard the shift in the tone of her voice.

A flush crept up his neck. Elia had make her opinions about prophesies rather plain; or rather putting too much effort into trying to fulfill them. To say that his own effort to interpret prophesies proved rather costly would be understating the matter greatly. He should have expected she would be less than receptive of his encouraging his much younger brother to take an interest in similar subjects. He had not intended on cultivating Viserys' interest in that direction, or at least he had not thought he was.

"The Maester was teaching him about the Doom of Valyria when I had been present. I mentioned it; though it was written some years before, there are connections to the material. Viserys seemed to be more interested in knowing a Targaryen penned it and that it was lost more than the supposed contents of Signs and Portents." It was the truth. His brother had not cared much for speculations of what was in a tome which was said to be missing; his interest was minimal at best. Rhaegar certainly had not thought to mention the book as anything more than a point of interest. He certainly had no intention of dredging that unpleasantness up again. The correlations between his blood and trying to dictate circumstances of fate proved to be both great and tragic.

He continued, "Viserys is more interested in such topics as contained in _Conquest of Dorne_."

At the apparent change of subject, she narrowed her eyes, but, in the next moment her lips twitched in humor, "Oh?"

Rhaegar nodded, "Yes, the events of it would resonate with him, then Baelor, or more rather then what came after."

She nodded, now visibly more at ease. "His namesake; or at least the second one." If the subject which they were speaking on had less conflicting implications, he would have been amused that his wife is no less of a student of history.

He shakes his head, "Yes him; salacious stories and gossip is of an interest to many; my brother is no different. Of course my brother shows no less favor to tales of war and particularly our forebearers, doing the fantastic. Such things are more of an interest to a child with a healthy curiosity."

It should be expected; Viserys' interests were greatly influenced by their father's euphoria when describing the greatness of their family, the knights of the Kingsguard, and even the likes of Oberyn Martell. Of course Viserys was young enough to where what his brother would have recalled most about him was that he decided to be a warrior, but, Viserys would not particularly be bothered with the reasons for it. Viserys cared more for hearing stories and sword-play for enjoyment than fulfilling prophesies.

She nods; apparently accepting his answers. Rhaegar was rather relieved the matter was done with; for now at least. He could understand her hesitancy and with his own experience, he did not have the same fervor for such things as he once did, though he does know there are certain things that are unavoidable, particularly where the Targaryen family history is concerned. For now it was best to leave that alone. It caused far too much trouble.

"There is something I wished to speak to you about."

She looked at him curiously, "Oh, about what?"

"Lord Arryn informs me that Lady Arryn is with child."

"Is she? How wonderful. Lord Arryn informed you this morning?"

"Yes. It was this morning."

"How lovely. They both must be very happy." Rhaegar did not want to disabuse his wife of the notion, but, he did promise Jon would speak to her about the truth of it.

"That is what I wanted to speak to you about."

She looked at him curiously. "Oh, there is something else?"

"Lord Arryn informed me, albeit reluctantly I should say, that Lady Arryn seemed rather unhappy and withdrawn of late."

"Lady Catelyn has long since gone and Lord Hoster returned to the Riverlands. She could just miss her family. She has only married Lord Jon this past year and this would be her first child."

"No, no; I am sure it is no just that. At any rate her uncle, Ser Brynden is here."

Elia frowned, "It is not quite the same thing. Lady Lysa is young and this is hardly her childhood home. The Keep can be lonely to some…" she trailed off.

She shook her head. She continues, "How positive are you what Lord Arryn sees is her being unhappy and withdrawn? It could just be nervousness because she is with child. Nervousness is the least of what I was feeling." She smiled faintly as if in remembrance of those times.

Only it was quickly enough that Rhaegar sees as her smile slips off of her face. He remembers his wife had not had an easy time of it, either time. He had been happy enough at the birth of his daughter, but, he remembers his father's reaction to Rhaenys' birth and how Elia was bed ridden for months after that. He also remembers the looks sent Elia's way from others; because she gave birth to a daughter and not a son. He also remembers how she almost died giving birth to Aegon. His father had not been kind when the Maester determined she would no longer have children without endangering her life further. He even recalls the conversation he had some time after Aegon's birth; he was enthused less about having a healthy living son and more about needing one more child; that though Aegon was the Prince That Was Promised he needed one more.

Thinking of the children asleep, he cannot help but think it is not just Jon was not the only child he was unjust towards.

He tries very much to focus on the issue at hand. "Do you think you can speak to her?"

She nods, "Of course I will speak to her about some things. I dare say having a child is different for every woman and may even vary from child to child. Though, she and I are hardly fast friends, we are civil to one another. Having a child could be wearing on the nerves, particularly the first time." She looks rather sad when she continues, "Or the second for that matter."

Rhaegar had been considering Elia's words. His wife's concerns were valid, but, if there was something which could be done or some solution found. He did not like to think Jon was unhappy or would remain so for very long. Despondency at the birth of a parent is a great disservice to the child. He now knew that better than anyone. He took a breath.

"Perhaps…"

"Perhaps, what?"

"Perhaps, she would be more receptive to woman speaking to her all the same, if it is not just fears about the child."

She frowns at him, her eyes narrow slightly. "Is it not awfully presumptuous to think there might be something more?"

Rhaegar returns her frown, "If it was just nervousness or anxiousness I doubt he would be most distracted. He was almost despondent at the thought."

Elia's jaw twitched curiously, as she mused, "I see."

"I would feel better if you did speak to her, in the off chance that there might be something more."

She nodded, but, she is silent for some time. "That may be so, but, I could not presume to ask her if she was unhappy about having a child without much cause for me to do so. I could not presume the right to require that she tells me anything. I am neither her family nor that good of a friend to her, even if I am her queen." Her tone is very measured and she speaks very carefully.

Rhaegar sighs, "It is just that I hope to reassure Jon. I have come to admire him greatly."

She looks at him knowingly. "I can understand that, but, when I do speak to her I hope you do not mean for me to tell you her inner most thoughts if you will tell her husband about them. She deserves better than that. She would not thank me if I was to divulge such things she does not wish her husband to know."

He frowns, remembering his wife's friendship with Ser Jaime. "You would keep her secrets if she asked you to?" He wonders just how many people's secrets his wife keeps.

Her gaze was even, "If there was something she wished for me to know in absolute confidence that causes no harm to anyone, then, yes I would. I would hope others do the same for me if I unbent enough to tell someone; much less here of all places where secrets can be bought and sold cheaply and used to cut. If she has them, her secrets are hers and I have no right to divulge them, even for her husband to know, unless it is something he needs to know. I do not share the interest of others who spin the tales of other's lives, particularly as they pertain to their marriages." It was a pastime many in King's Landing shared. It was a pastime he knew he, his wife, and his children had been the frequent subject of.

They both sit silently together for some time.

Though that does not concern him much now, he cannot help but ask, "Do you keep secrets from me?" She had before. Admittedly, he had earned her caginess and he never asked her to tell him her secrets, either.

She laughs and he relaxes slightly at her not taking offence to the question. "What is there to know about me, you already know." She smirks, "If I was to ask the same question, what would your answer be?"

"There are very few who do not know of everything I have done."

She snorts, "That does not answer the question."

"I believe it does. There is very little of me that I know that you do not. I have never intended to keep things from you. I do not now." Remembering the arguments they had, he knows regret seeped into his voice. Even if he had not kept much from her, he had done things which she had not been in favor of; things that others would view as unkind. He had been unkind.

"Good."

When he feels her head come to rest on his shoulder he is less startled at the action, but, more about how comfortable it is.

* * *

Rhaegar knew if anyone else was in the room they would have thought him a lackwit with the way his mouth hung open, his eyes blinking in confusion, and one hand clutching the harp he, on a whim, had picked up; but, he does not know quite what to say.

He doubted anyone could find fault with that reaction. He was taken aback with the ferocity of the kiss. He had not been expecting it, but, to be fair, Elia had not kissed him like that for some time.

Carefully, putting down the harp, "Why did you do that?"

Before where there was a resolve in her expression, now she tilts her head in exasperation and slight annoyance, "I felt I wished to. If you would rather not, I will desist from now on."

He shakes his head, "There is no need for such hysterics. I was just taken aback. It is not often you kiss me like this."

She huffs out, "Very well, I will give enough prior warning next time."

"You do notice, I was not arguing."

She sighs. "Sometimes I do not know what to say to you."

He cannot help but continue to stare at her. "I am quite familiar with that sentiment. Still, if you are willing, would you unbend as to tell me why exactly is it that you wished to do that?"

"Most other husbands would not complain, nor ask for reasons." Her tone is far too rather pointed for his comfort.

"I am not most others."

She laughs and shakes her head, "No, you certainly are not."

"What truly caused you to do that?"

She sighed again; all the joviality in her seemed to have evaporated. "I have just come from speaking to Lady Arryn." She came to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"What?" Rhaegar knew he looked as confused as he felt. He could not help but think of the myriad of things which could cause that sort of behavior in his usually composed wife, but, not one comes to him that makes sense.

She shakes her head again, but, this time she looked deeply saddened and troubled. He ventures, "Certainly it cannot be as bad as that?"

"I honestly do not know what to make of it."

If he was confused, he is even more now, "How do you mean?"

"The poor girl was ill prepared for the life she has and Lord Arryn will have to be just as understanding and patient with his lady-wife than he would be with his work, perhaps if not more."

"You speak in riddles, Elia."

"I will not say it is without hope, but, if he wishes to be happy in his marriage, it will take effort on both their parts."

He frowned, deeply concerned. "Then it is not just the child, how much more?"

Rhaegar did not like how she bit her lip and shook her head. "Just enough, too much. It started all wrong. I think."

"They were married in the earlier days of the war, yes?" He asked the question rather hesitatingly. He knew he had to tread carefully here. The war was still a difficult subject to most, and his role in it was not insignificant.

She nodded, "Yes, and that is partly the issue." It was an issue for their marriage, but, other's he had less experience with.

His brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

Elia thought back to that disturbingly illuminating conversation.

_Lady Lysa's face crumbled. "I did not want to marry him. How could I want him when my heart longs for someone else."_

_She asked; her tone gentle as she could make it, "And your father did not approve of the match?"_

_The lady shook her head wildly. "I gave my maidenhead to him."_

_Elia nodded. She could hardly berate the woman and it was not her place nor did it seem as though the woman was a stranger to disparagement because of it. She had heard the rumors and one did question the hasty marriage of a younger daughter to a much older man, especially to someone who wanted troops for a war against the Crown. "I see." In a lower voice, she asked, "Was this man not available to entertain your suit?"_

_She snorted, but, rather hysterically she continued, "He was the son of a lord, but, not a wealthy or well-landed one, and my father did not approve of it. When he learned of what we had done, he was so livid. Then, as if the gods smiled down upon him, Lord Arryn & Lord Ned came asking for men to fight with him. My sister and I were married shortly after."_

_Though it seemed unlikely, she could not help asking, "Is Lord Arryn cruel to you?"_

_The girl lets out a bitter and strangled laugh, "No, as my father would say, it was fortunate Lord Arryn had just cause to marry me."_

_The situation became clearer to her. "And you are you still unhappy with the marriage?"_

_Lady Lysa lets out a bitter laugh. "My happiness was and remains of no concern to anyone. I know how little others think of me and my husband is no different. He did not concern himself with my happiness when he married me, just my father's men and not even now that he needs my ability to give him an heir."_

_"Certainly that is not so."_

_In a more sour tone, she countered, "I was told he was an honorable man with a proud lineage, but, what is so honorable about a man when all he sees when he looks at me is a soiled woman only worthy enough for him because at his age he is desperate to beget heirs to replace the ones he lost. He certainly does not speak to me as one would a wife. I am nothing but a womb to him, I know it. More often than not he only notices I exist is when there is a lull in his all important duties."_

Elia caught him staring at her."As you, and Lord Arryn, suspect, she is discontented."

Rhaegar frowned, "Yes, however, in what way?"

She sighed, "From the beginning and in many ways."

"Lord Arryn is right to be concerned, then?

"Yes." Elia was usually polite and direct, but, if she was being this blunt, the matter must be more serious than he had suspected.

He saw how Elia bit her lip. Eventually, she just replied, sadly, "Lady Lysa is a pretty thing, but, she was so young when they married. I doubt hers is a life she would have expected for herself."

Rhaegar was certain he was lacking in particular facts. "How do you mean? Was she hoping to forgo marriage and children so that she could enter the service of the Faith of the Seven?" From what he observed from Lady Lysa he doubted it, but, in his experience high-born women either married or they took it upon themselves to join in the service of gods.

Elia let out a laugh, but, there was no humor in it, whatsoever. "No, I do not think a life dedicated to serving the Seven was in her thoughts then or now."

"What is it, then? What other life could she have imagined than that of a wife of a lord?"

Elia took a breath and her words rushed out. "She never thought she would be Lady Arryn and what that entails."

"Lord Arryn is a Lord Paramount and a well-respected man both in the Vale and in the rest of Westeros. He is also a good man. What else could she have possibly imagined or wanted in a husband?"

"To start with, a husband closer to her in age", Elia said flatly, but, not unkindly.

"A difference in age is hardly uncommon."

She nodded, "The difference in age here is considerable."

He inclined his head in acceptance of that fact. That was certainly true. The man was a good ten years older than his wife's father.

Elia smiled at him, "Do not mistake what I mean to say; Lord Arryn is a good man. To most he would be a worthy husband, and he is, but, she would not have chosen him for herself."

Rhaegar considered that. Perhaps that might have been true, but, her father was the one who was the one who decided the match and Jon Arryn was an honorable man and he said so.

Elia's face took on an unusual quality when he mentioned Lord Hoster's rights as a father, but, then Rhaegar reddened. His own marriage to Elia was decided that way, but, he was the one who ignored Lord Rickard's rights as a father, much to the other man's detriment and that of his family.

In that moment he considered himself very fortunate that his wife had not refrained from commented on it. Still, her response was no less telling. "No one could cast aspersions on Lord Tully's rights and adherence to duty in finding his daughter a worthy husband or Lord Arryn's honor or capability in fulfilling the role; certainly not I. However, what she sees is a man who took her for a wife because her father had an army he needed; not a man who wanted her for her mind, her beauty, or capabilities outside of her ability to bear him children."

He could not help think that even if there was no love or no elaborate wedding high-born men have always married women for their ability to bear their children to see their lines go forward; that was hardly new or something to take offence at. "His motives for doing as he had done are hardly any reason for his wife to hold such things against him."

Elia grimaced. "Yes, but, that means very little to a young girl who still held notions of romance and dreams of a marriage based on love before she married."

There was no heat in the plain way she said this, but, Rhaegar could not help but feel a pang remembering another young girl who had notions of romance and how badly that fared. He remembers the way she did not want the marriage made for her. He is fairly certain, had she lived, the marriage he could have given her would not have been one she desired either.

"Did you have such notions?"

She smiled gently. "In my experience there are very few girl children who do not, at one point or another, dream of marrying a handsome, kind, intelligent, gallant, devoted, and absolutely perfect man who loves them. I was no different. However, as one grows one comes to learn that when marriages are beginning to be discussed one is given little more than a finite list of names to choose from. More often than not the list is restricted to appropriate cousins or men of good breeding within the vicinity or from different regions. That is so even in Sunspear, and most definitely elsewhere in Westeros."

Rhaegar knew to be true. High-born marriages are considered very carefully and very rarely are unequal marriages even considered. He knew his father had been particularly exacting in potential brides for him.

Elia had been a woman when they married and long since become accustomed to what was to be expected from her. He remembers approaching marriage as a duty, nor did he take much of an active role in choosing a wife, not that his father would have welcomed such a thing. He also remembers the reasons why they married and how it had nothing to do with what Elia or he truly wanted.

"Then why would Lady Lysa be so despondent even now. Ours…" He trails off for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Ours has not failed to see its troubles." That does not quite encapsulate what happened between them, but, for now it will serve.

She smiles knowingly. "That is so. Though it was not love or our desires taken into account when we first married, ours is not new and was not built upon your urgency and nor was it with my unwillingness. As for them, no matter how good a match is, and one could hardly argue that they would have wanted it, even if there is nothing particularly untoward, if one allows their disappointment to fester, it will."

Rhaegar frowned. He wonders if that is what caused Elia to be receptive to him again, but, instead he asks, "Do you believe it can be salvaged? I know Jon wishes it."

"I believe so, but, it will take more than wishes for it to be salvaged." They looked at one another. They both knew the truth in that.

"That much is obvious, but, do you have some remedy for it? Is there a remedy for it?"

She seemed rather sad, when she replied, "I think they do not understand one another."

Thinking furiously, he said, "Do they even have the same interests?"

She sighed, "I do not know. To me it seems they rarely speak to one another unless necessary. Perhaps…"

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps, if there is no important responsibility, some of Lord Arryn's duties could be reduced to 'give him some time to spend with his lady wife in her state' or I could find some way to arrange for them to see one another, which would require them to speak." She shrugged her shoulders.

He nodded. "Yes, there is not to be a council meeting until next week. I think that would be fine. As it is he puts too much of himself into work, perhaps a convenient outing inviting both of them. But, what is to say Lady Lysa would be receptive to it at all?"

Elia's expression saddened slightly. Rhaegar could not help but wonder if Elia had given him a more polite version of what Lady Lysa spoke to her about. He could hardly claim to know Lady Arryn well or at all.

He spent some time thinking of what he did know. After a few moments, it came to him. "Perhaps, her uncle, Ser Brynden, could be of help. He would certainly know his niece better than anyone else here and he does get on with Lord Arryn."

Elia laughed; it was a laugh of delight and relief, "Of course, how could we forget? He would want to see the both of them happy."

"I suppose that is settled then."

Elia laughed again, but, it was far less carefree than the last one, "We would have to speak to them first."

He nodded; it would not serve to be too optimistic. "For now, we can let the matter rest." He was cognizant of both what they just spoke of and it reminded him that was a matter left unattended to. "I have a matter that is slightly more pressing."

She looked surprised, "Oh, what sort of matter is that?"

He stood and made his way to kneel in front of his wife, "There is the matter of the –"

"Come in!"

Rhaegar went to rise. He almost sighed because of Ser Oswell's reaction upon his entry into the room. The man looked vaguely surprised, and most definitely unrepentant. While any of his Kingsguard would usually be welcome, this current instance was most definitely not one of those times. Elia, on the other hand, seemed disappointed for a moment, but, the emotion cleared from her face rather quickly.

The man looked between them, "Ah, Your Graces I do apologize…" Rhaegar was convinced the other man was not apologetic about much of anything, let alone because he interrupted them. When the knight turned his gaze to Elia, he replied easily, "Princess Rhaenys has been asking for you."

Elia smiled, "Thank you, Ser Oswell. I will go to her then." As she stood to leave, she turned back to him, rather furtively, "I will leave you to think of what we spoke about, then."

Rhaegar nodded, saying, "You would dine with me tonight?"

Her smile widened. "Yes, of course."

Ser Oswell spoke up again, "Please, Your Grace, let me escort you."

Elia, for her part, said to the knight, "Thank you, but, I do not wish to keep you from your duties."

Grinning wildly, the knight replied, "Not at all, Your Grace, it will be my pleasure."

With the overenthusiastic way by which Ser Oswell took her arm and smiled calculatingly in his direction before they left, Rhaegar was fairly certain he would not have to be concerned about others' at the Red Keep's focus being directed at the Arryn's marriage, he would have to be concerned at the focus being directed at his own.


	16. Chapter 16

Rhaegar spoke to Jon about the last judgment he presided on as the throng of people left in the Throne Room steadily thinned. Because the hall was nearly empty the high pitched, excited voices of children carried. The trio of boys in the far corner of the hall, it appeared, had tired of decorum required of them while there were petitioners to be heard. 

The trio of boys, his younger brother and two young lords, one older and one younger than Viserys, were visiting their father who remained in the capitol. Mace Tyrell had made good on his promise to bring his family to Court; or at least his wife and his eldest two sons, Lords Willas and Garlan, had come from the Reach.

Thus far the arrangement, though it only had been a few days, has been favorable. The two young lords seemed to enjoy King’s Landing and Lady Alerie and Elia knew of one another. Rhaegar remembered Elia asking Lady Alerie about the Tyrells two youngest children, only to be told that Lord Tyrell’s mother was caring for them for the duration of their visit. Remembering the rather formidable woman, he was sure the two younger children, as well as Highgarden, were in quite capable hands.

He looked about the hall. Arthur was standing to his left. Ser Jaime stood nearest the lads; watching for whatever mischief they might engage in. Ser Gerold was having some sort of discussion with Maester Pycelle, looking distinctly bored. Lord Tyrell, who had previously been in conversation with Lord Tywin, was now looking at where the boys were animatedly speaking with one another, with a pleased expression on his face. If Rhaegar was the type to snort he would have. This past evening when Elia asked Lady Alerie to join her and Lady Arryn to join her for today’s audiences the man had the same expression. The ladies in question were standing some feet away from the boys who were now nattering on about who knew what. 

The noise also attracted Jon’s attention. Rhaegar saw a faint smile bloom on the man’s face before it faded and the man turned away. Rhaegar felt a jolt of sadness both remembering his and Jon’s conversation about his fears about Lady Arryn and the man’s history with fostering young lords at the Eyrie. 

Remembering his and Elia’s intensions, he rose from his seat on the Iron Throne. “Lord Arryn?”

The older man turned towards him, “Yes, Your Grace?”

He pointed to where their wives were standing. “Let us join them.”

The man looked dubious, but, he agreed, all the same. That was promising. When the pair of them made their way to where the ladies were standing Rhaegar overheard the youngest Tyrell attempt to coax his father into allowing him to take part in the practice swordplay his older brother and Viserys were allowed to partake in. Viserys was older than the slightly pudgy, younger lord by two name days. 

“Father, please? Willas gets to.” Jon looked as though he was barely containing a smile; evidently this sort of conversation he was quite familiar with.

Lady Alerie could be heard trying to argue with both her husband and her son: “Willas is older and we certainly did not allow him to play with swords at your age. Many things can go wrong.” The child’s older brother and Viserys could barely control the rolling of their eyes in face of motherly concern and a look of abject dismay from the child.

“I suppose it could not hurt to at least become familiar…” Lord Tyrell, it seemed, was not intending to put in at least a token amount of resistance at which Lady Alerie and Elia shared a commiserating glance. Lady Lysa looked dubious about the whole thing. 

Lady Alerie huffed, ‘It seems I am to be overruled then.” 

The lad seemed as though he was almost about to let out a cheer until Elia spoke for the first time; her expression, vaguely reminiscent of Doran’s at his most calculating. “Do not worry, my lady. I am sure Ser Jaime would not mind overseeing a lesson with wooden swords only; for all three of them. Would you, Ser?” 

The knight, trying not to laugh at the dismay now plastered on all three young faces, nodded cheerfully, “No, of course not. It is always good to refresh one’s skill by going back to the beginning.”

Rhaegar almost laughed aloud at the look of betrayal Viserys sent Ser Jaime’s way. He had come across Viserys practicing with a sword of true steel not a few days ago. It seemed now he was to be denied much desired practice with it.

Instead, he voiced his thoughts on the matter, “Quite right. One can never be too careful. There will be far many more opportunities for learning the art of weaponry with true weapons at a later time.” He had never shown any interest in arms in his youth with the same enthusiasm as Lord Garlan displayed, but, he knew the value of being patient and though he could not show it, he had long since lost what little thirst for battle he had once.

Though Lord Tyrell looked vaguely put out at his less than enthusiastic thoughts on the subject, Lady Alerie seemed slightly more relieved. A few minutes later the children were herded away after being regaled with yet another admonition to be careful leaving the adults to speak about the morning’s audiences and their respective plans for the rest of day. 

Before too long the ever helpful Lord Tyrell had some plans regarding the building of the naval fleet which he wanted to discuss with them in time for the next council meeting. Apparently that was the topic he had been discussing with an “admittedly skeptical” Lord Tywin. At that pronouncement Lady Lysa admitted she had a letter to write, Lady Alerie admitted to wanting to do the same. Elia made her excuses about going to the nursery after inviting Lady Alerie and Lady Lysa to join her on a picnic with the children the next day, which the ladies readily agreed to. He registered the discreet look she sent toward Lord Arryn as she made the overture before the ladies swept through the hall. 

Tomorrow, it seemed, he and Lord Arryn were to join in on a picnic.

* * *

Fortunately, the next day was one with fine weather. Having been at work for much of the morning he had been able to convince Lord Arryn into joining him for “a walk” and so he, his Hand and Arthur started the trek out of his Solar.

They spent a while discussing the merits of Lord Tyrell’s proposal. He knew the necessity of keeping the Kingdom’s naval affairs up to par, but, to ensure a heavy influx of funds into maritime affairs during a time of peace when the state of things required no great improvement was foolhardy. 

Though Rhaegar felt it was a worthwhile endeavor, as of now, the scale of plans the man was touting it would require large amounts of money; money the treasury did not have. The financial state of the kingdom had been dire under his father and the war was costly in more way than one, even though the respective Lords Paramount had paid for their own costs. The other members of the council were well aware of that. He certainly had no desire to raise taxes in order to update the city’s maritime efforts when there was not a great need to. His rule was far too new for such things. Even if it was not, he would have to think very carefully about his actions with respect to the realm.

He did not wish to borrow more money from lords than he had to, much less from lords who would require “favors”. He was under no illusion the Master of Ships had designs on being the one who Rhaegar should borrow from. While it was true the Reach was helpful during the war that was no reason to be overly gracious when there was Lord Tywin’s pride consider; that and the hash of things Lord Mace made during the Siege of Storm’s End. Lord Stannis and Ashara had arrived at Storm’s End some time ago and the letter which Ashara wrote to Elia told of the state of things in Storm’s End. He understood the need to repay the “favor” shown to him and his house by Lord Mace, however, he could not act so that it continually alienates those houses and those families who he would make amends with. 

Jon, having heard his concerns, was of the same mind, but, he did suggest giving into some part of Lord Tyrell’s plans. He advised to give in to nothing extravagant, but, something sort of refurbishment of a limited number of ships. He was remarkably fortunate that most of his Hand’s advice was sound. 

If Lord Tywin proved to be “less than receptive” at this moment, and while that usually would be reason enough to not agree to such things, giving in to some Lord Tyrell’s suggestions would cause Lord Tywin to think about how best to manage the office given to him. Such a thing could only be good. 

Between that and other topics it was not long before he guided them to walk where he knew Elia was hosting her “picnic”. He briefly gazed out to see where her company was seated. He smiled as he saw her talking with Lady Alerie and Lady Lysa who were seated with her. However, he is immediately distracted when the next thing to catch his eye was Viserys and the two Tyrell boys, together, in a jumble, their limbs all askew. They were fighting one another. He could not fathom why they would be; as far as he knew, the boys got on well. Or at least that is what he was led to believe.

Alarmed and quite forgetting Lord Arryn and Arthur were with him, he could not help but walk at a slightly faster pace towards the children in the hopes he could stop them before they get seriously hurt or at the very least cause a diplomatic incident. As he got closer he could not help but frown at the way Ser Brynden of his Kingsguard stood some feet away, not offering help or breaking the children apart but telling them to aim for various parts of each other’s bodies and advising on various striking maneuvers, while Ser Lucas was cheering them on with the enthusiasm one would generally attribute to other youths who were not members of the Kingsguard. 

“Ser Lucas! Ser Brynden!”

At the sound of his voice the younger knight turns around and simply bows to him. With a cheerful voice he responds, “Your Grace. We were not expecting you.” 

“What in the name of the Gods is this?” He goes to move closer to the boys to check for injuries, but stops when he sees the three are now untangled and laying on the ground, panting from their exertions and Viserys is laughing. _Laughing?_ Who laughs after being in a fight? He feels a cold chill as he wonders if his brother has shown some sign of his family’s madness before he stamps down on his feelings when he notices the same type of laugh emanating from the other two boys. 

At a loss for words, he turns curiously to the knights for an offer of explanation. He simply points to where his brother and the two young lords are.

When Jon finally catches up to them, the older of the two knights looks at him blankly. “They were wrestling, Your Grace.” Ser Brynden says it as though the answer was obvious or that he should not be concerned about this.

“Why?” Viserys was far too slight to be wrestling and not of an age to do it. His brother should not be wrestling at all. Why would anyone let their children wrestle?

The two knights share a look he was not able to decipher. As the three boys began making their way towards them, the youngest of his Kingsguard just shrugged at him. “We were just testing them to see how they would fare. Lord Tyrell said he would prefer more accelerated exercises for the Tyrell children while they were here as well. Ser Jaime agreed with Lord Tyrell on this score. He said that learning to use weaponry was not enough and so it would benefit the Prince and these young lords to start learning a wider variety of strengthening exercises.”

He could not help but feel a stab of annoyance at knight’s words. Of course this idea would have come from Jaime Lannister. Aside from Pycelle, the knight has long since been the one who determined the trajectory of Viserys’ instruction. By the time he returned to King’s Landing that choice had already been made for him.

While it was true education of the children would fall under the care of the members of the household staff and he had spent more of his time focusing on his brother’s scholastic efforts, he would have liked to have been consulted about this at least. 

“And just where is Ser Jaime?” If this was his idea he could at least be here for it, particularly if he was letting his brother endanger himself because of such foolishness. 

Ser Brynden clears his throat and gestures behind them. 

At some distance away the knight was standing near the sitting group of women. Attached to one of the knight’s fingers was his son, Aegon. The knight’s other hand was bracing Aegon’s back as his son was walking slowly, but, steadily towards Elia who sat a short distance away with her arms outstretched, while the other two ladies with her cooed along as most ladies of a certain age were wont to do. Amongst the pride and happiness there was annoyance as well. Though he knew he was being unfair he nearly grimaced, ‘Naturally, the knight would be helpful enough with his son as well’.

He turned back to Ser Brynden determinedly not looking back. He was sure Ser Brynden was a capable knight, but, he still asked the older man about what they had just been discussing, “You believed it wise for them to be wrestling like this and at their ages?”

Now it seemed as though Ser Brynden was trying to stifle his laughter. He wonders if it is a common occurrence for members of his Kingsguard to not laugh while trying to humor him. “Your Grace, I was no different at that age. It certainly would not do to be so overprotective.”

He stared at man. “Overprotective?” This was the first time someone ever accused him of that, directly or otherwise.

He looked towards Lord Arryn who was wearing a most amused expression. “A scrape or two could hardly endanger the lads.” 

He turned to Ser Lucas once again. “And you wrestled at that age as well?”

The younger man laughed, rather uneasily, and nodded before saying, “I am the youngest of three boys. I was my brother, Lyn’s, preferred sparring partner.” Arthur nodded along sagely; as if he and Ser Lucas found some common ground on being conscripted into such things was typical when one had older brothers. 

“I see.” He did not see, but, he had never wrestled at that age, much less willingly. Though knew he should learn such things, he had only done so because it became evident such skills would become necessary, he had never enjoyed them as the children seemed to. 

He supposed his brother, who was now looking at him rather beseechingly, seemed unhurt and therefore, he could not find it in himself to argue about it, publicly, but, he resolved to have words with Ser Jaime about overreaching. 

He sighed, nodding, “Very well. Carry on, then.”

Remembering why he was there he turned towards his Hand, “Come Lord Arryn, we ought to greet our Lady-wives.” He ignored the surprised look on the man’s face. 

When he got closer he heard Elia laugh at something Lady Lysa had said. They were faced away from him, but, not Ser Jaime who turned around and greeted him with a short bow and a “Your Grace”. Ser Oswell, who had been doing the same as Ser Jaime had been earlier, though with his younger son, rose to bow, but, picked up Jon to carry him with practiced ease. Regret and embarrassment builds in his head seeing that it is the same ease that Ser Jaime displayed with his family; it is the type that he does not readily have.

At the greeting the women turned towards him. The ladies moved to rise, but, he held up a hand to stop them. 

“Husband, how good of you to join us, and Lord Arryn, you as well. What a lovely surprise.” He could see Ser Oswell grinning because of the pleasant tone and the smile she levels at him. Remembering the last time Ser Oswell caught them together Rhaegar fought not to react at the obvious flow of the other man’s thoughts. 

“It is too fine a day to not venture out for at least a few minutes. I hope we are not intruding.” Though he tries to keep his gaze directed towards Elia he does not miss the other knight’s knowing expression. He was here for Jon, not for himself.

She turns to smile at the other two ladies. Lady Alerie is placidly pleased. Lady Lysa shrugs but there is some level of discomfort there. Whether it was because of her husband’s unexpected presence or her condition, he did not know and he knows better than to ask.

“Not at all. Please join us. It would be our pleasure.”

He takes a seat next to Elia. He looks at his Hand, hoping the other man would get the hint for him to sit next to his wife as well. He is distracted when Rhaenys settles next to him with a cheerful hug and a greeting of “Papa”. It is not long after his arrival that his daughter loses interest in him and becomes entranced again by Daenerys, who is slowly rolling about on the blanket. He could not help but wonder if when they grew it would be strange for the both of them that the niece would be the older one between them. He shakes his head; such things do not matter. 

No one speaks for some time. Rhaegar is quite content to sit with his family watching as his sons are interacting with the two knights, but, he is dismayed at the uncomfortable way Lord and Lady Arryn are sitting next to one another and not speaking a word to one another.

Rather than forcing them into an uncomfortable conversation he decides to start a conversation with his own wife. Perhaps that will cause the others to speak. 

“You saw how Viserys, Lords Willas, and Garlan were wrestling.” 

Elia and Lady Alerie laughed a bit. Lady Alerie’s laugh was of a slightly nervous quality. 

Elia nodded, sighing slightly. “Yes, Viserys learned the Lord Willas and even Lord Garlan had already learned some wrestling maneuvers. Of course he wanted to join in.” She shook her head and he almost groaned. His brother did not like it if others knew something before he did or did something he was not allowed. Even if his earlier thoughts of his brother did not come to be realized, he would have to ensure that his brother did not become so forceful.

Lady Alerie speaks up, “I am afraid my Lord-husband has been very insistent on our sons learning such arts. He is especially hopeful our eldest is well prepared before he is to be sent to Oldtown to be a squire.”

Lady Lysa starts, “Who is Lord Willas intended to squire for?”

Lady Alerie smiles, “He will squire for my brother, Baelor. My brother will be a good influence, I think. He has a temper which will benefit Willas’ education greatly.” Rhaegar, having been in proximity to Lord Mace for so long, is quite sure of the veracity of the statement.

Even then that does not stop him from almost frowning at the smile which blooms on Elia’s face when she says, “I quite agree. From what I recall, Ser Baelor was quite a talented knight.” 

His Hand speaks for the first time. “Her Grace knows Lord Baelor?” 

Rhaegar frowns at Elia whose smile remains, “Yes, Lord Arryn. We, and by that I meant my parents, my brother, and I, were fortunate enough to visit Oldtown some years ago. Lord and Lady Hightower were kind to consent to be our hosts for the duration of the visit. I met Lady Alerie and Ser Baelor then.” 

He narrows his eyes remembering the reasons for Elia’s visit to Oldtown. He wishes he could say he leans in closer to her just because of impulse, but, he will not lie to himself. 

Lady Alerie, all smiles, starts speaking to the Arryns, “My Lord-father and Lady-mother were quite honored to host Her Grace’s family.” 

Elia smiles again, “Lady Alerie I do hope you would pass on my regards to Lord Leyton and Lady Rhea, and the rest of your family when you see or write to them.”

The two women share a smile before Lady Alerie continues, “Oh, yes of course.”

Rhaegar stiffens slightly hearing Aegon’s giggle and they all look up and he tries, with difficulty, to control the darkening of his expression at the smile Elia and the knight share. A wave of distaste flows through him as he sees the easy relationship Ser Jaime has with Aegon and Elia’s elated laugh at their antics. Disgust, at himself, follows quickly after. He should be above such emotions. 

He finds himself looking at Ser Jaime again. Here was yet another one of Elia’s former suitors; who was quite comfortable with his family. He knows that they consider each other friends. He is aware of how their friendship and the dark events which contributed to it. He also knows that they are family through marriage. He was always sure that Ser Jaime would keep his vows to the best of his abilities and Ser Jaime will always be a handful of years younger than Elia. While that usually would reassure him, he still cannot find that he likes it very much, even if he had accepted their friendship. 

Baelor Hightower, however, he has never met. Aside from knowing he is family to the Lord Commander and that the man is the heir to Leyton Hightower and a knight, he knows even less about the man. What he knows is that he quite thoroughly dislikes the way Elia speaks highly about him. 

He turns to where Viserys was; his brother was surrounded by knights of the Kingsguard and boys who wished to be knights. He cannot forget how sure he is that he had no taste for such skills that knight’s revel in. He steels a look at Lady Arryn; he remembers what Elia had said about girls and their dreams and he cannot help but remember that though she said she left her ideals behind, both suitors of hers he knows about are knights; reputedly very talented ones. 

Even unbidden now, because he thinks of Elia he also thinks of Lyanna. He knows it is not quite fair to Elia or Lyanna’s memory, but, he has long since stopped trying to avoid such thoughts. Even though both women, when Lyanna had lived, were far too different and he could not help but compare them. Lyanna’s death does not change that and he doubts it ever will. 

Still, he knows that Lyanna would not have favored a certain type of man; but, he knew she what type of man she would not favor. Before he and Elia married he never gave a thought to any other suitors she may have had. When they married, it was never something between them. They certainly did not speak of it; there was never any need. Even when he returned from the Tower of Joy she never gave any gave no indication of wanting to be with anyone else; even though he knew the possibility was there, but, mostly because he earned such a possibility. He flushed slightly remembering the way she proved how strident she was on that score.

As the group carries on conversation of what Oldtown is like for Lady Lysa’s benefit Rhaegar cannot help but think over his reactions. Though he knows it is foolish of him but he knows what he feels is jealousy. One of those formerly prospective grooms was here in front of him and would always be and now he sits uneasily listening as his wife praises another one of her former suitors to the man’s sister. What else could he call this but jealousy?

He was never jealous about Lyanna’s one-time suitors. Perhaps it was because he knew Lyanna had not wanted the man she was promised to. She had told him that. He also knew that he was the only one to be with Lyanna and, in turn, was the one who Lyanna wanted to be with. With Elia he cannot say it is exactly the same. He is sure he has never thought or felt this way about Robert Baratheon in the same way he does seeing Ser Jaime interact with her or hear about Lord Baelor.

All he knows he does not like it; both the thoughts and the feelings. 

His thoughts are interrupted when a hand wraps itself around his wrist. He shakes his head and levels a look at Elia whose expression has not changed despite being the one to do that. He moves to ask her, but, she settles in closer and she gazes at him before sending her gaze towards Lord Arryn who is now sitting silently watching Lady Arryn carry on a conversation with Ser Oswell about his brother and his family for some reason. Ah, of course, the Whents were the Tully’s bannermen. Usually that would be fine, but, he needs Lady Arryn to talk to his Hand not one of his knights.

He clears his throat, “Lady Arryn?”

She turns to look at him curiously, and she blushes slightly. He is again reminded of how young she is. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Has Lord Hoster written to you recently?”

She looks confusedly, but, she answers gamely, if rather nervously. “Ah, yes. He has quite settled into Riverrun again, though he does send his regards.”

He nods, “Good, good. When you do write to him again, do tell him is presence and his counsel is greatly missed.”

She squeaks out, “Of course, Your Grace.” He is rather taken aback at her expectant look. 

He is saved from having to ask anything more when the boys, with the knights following at a much more sedate pace, join them. Viserys, apparently done acting like a young prince, after taking politely asking for sweets for himself and the two other boys, decides the next order of business is making faces at the younger children. It seems that the behavior of young men runs both ways as the younger of the Tyrell boys start doing the same, much to the amusement of the adults. 

Rhaegar, for his part, takes the time to speak to his Hand. 

“Lord Arryn, I hope you are enjoying yourself.”

“Yes.” The man nods, but, frowns, “I have to ask Your Grace…”

“Yes, Lord Arryn?”

“Why are we here?”

“Am I unduly keeping you from something, my lord?” As far as duties within King’s Landing are concerned, there is nothing the other man should be doing which would prevent him from taking some time away from his work.

“No, His Grace has been far too kind of late, with respect to my duties.”

“Yes, well, work will always remain, but, it would be a great disservice to not take a moment or two to be out on a day like this.” He blithely ignores the droll look sent his way.

The other man frowns more deeply. “Your Grace has never been concerned about the weather before.”

“Yes. That is so, but, I wished to be outside.” This was uncharacteristic of him, but, the statement was true enough today.

“Why?”

He certainly was not going to tell the man he had designs on helping along his marriage. “Though the demands of the kingdom are many, it would not do to work ourselves into tiredness. Especially yourself.” Seeing the dubious expression he adds, “Her Grace agrees with me.” It was the truth, not the entire truth, but, a truth all the same.

The man’s eyebrow rises. “Her Grace thinks I overexert myself far too much.”

Rhaegar ignores the snort which comes from near them. Ser Oswell, it seems, will continue to find too much levity with the circumstances of his life. Instead he just turns slightly and tilts his head to where their wives are sitting knowing the man’s eyes follow where they are directed. 

“It would not do put one’s efforts into one aspect of one’s life at the expense of others.” He learned the dangers of that. His focus on Lyanna and the prophecy and what came after lead to the near destruction of the kingdom. The other man knew of just some of the ways that was true for him, and so he nodded, but, still his Hand looked unconvinced about how such advice would be appropriate in his circumstance.

Leaning in further to the man, Rhaegar decides to be direct. “If you wish for her to think kindly of you, she must know you well enough in order to do so.”

“She does not want to think kindly of me.” Though he does not doubt such a possibility, one of them should make the effort.

“How is it that you came to that particular conclusion?”

“We have been married for some time and she still has not warmed to me.” Rhaegar thinks a man of his Hand’s age should not sound so petulant.

Remembering what Elia had said, he ventures, “Have you given her reasons to think kindly of you?”

The older man looks confused at the question, but thankfully does not seem to have taken it as an accusation. “I am afraid I do not follow your meaning.”

“Certainly there was a reason you chose to marry her aside from the practical ones?” No one needed to elaborate on the reasons why the marriage, though unconventional as it was, went forward. 

The man looks away. “No.”

“When you asked if I could speak to Her Grace, she intimated that she would not take kindly to those circumstances either.” 

“Your marriage was no less of an arrangement.”

“That is so, but, Her Grace was of an age to understand what marriage entails and knows that I value her more than simply what she brought into the marriage.”

His Hand argues, “I cannot change the reasons why I married her.”

“No one expects that you would.” Nothing can change it, either.

“Then what do I do?”

“Give her a reason to want to be your wife.”

The older man scoffs. “That is easily said.”

“It does not make it less than true.”

“Your Grace sounds so certain things can be improved upon.”

Rhaegar looks to his wife, “I am.”

His Hand snorts as he looks toward his wife, “My lady wife is different from Her Grace.”

He agrees, “Yes, however, in no way does that mean that she thinks kindly of me all the time.” He thinks he is grateful he does not have to elaborate on why that would be so, before he continues, “She will even tell me so.”

“That does not offend you?”

“I expect honesty from Her Grace and she expects it from me. That is true even if we do not like what that honesty entails.”

The man’s tone is bitter. “And what sort of honesty can I expect from someone who married me despite not having much of a choice?”

“I do not know what you can expect, but, you must talk to her, regardless. Nothing good comes letting the matter go unvoiced because of discomfort or fear.”

“What if nothing improves?” He sounds so disheartened at the prospect. That is something, at least.

“Then you could at least say you tried and the both of you understand one another. Certainly that is better than the uncertainty and the tense carefulness now?”

The man sighs, “I will think on what you have said, Your Grace.”

He nods; that was something. After a few minutes, he takes his leave of the other man. He, then, moves to where his sons are. He smiles at the proud way they display their “ability to walk”. With one more look at his daughter who sits politely next to her mother, he considers himself very fortunate for having such fine children. 

It is some time before he sits down next to Elia. Though he keeps his gaze directed towards his daughter who started chattering at him and Daenerys’ attempts to crawl into his lap he also listens somewhat to the conversation Elia and the other two ladies are having. 

“Will you be remaining in the capitol until the child is born?” That question is posed by Lady Alerie. It seems the other woman has been made aware of Lady Lysa’s condition.

He hears the girl sigh, “My Lord-husband insists on it as a precaution.”

Elia replies, “That, I think, is wise. To travel in such a state can be much too strenuous.” Lady Alerie nods sagely. Rhaegar remembers that it was not a few months ago that Lady Alerie gave birth to the youngest Tyrell. 

The girl looks towards her husband and seems to consider what the women say. “I suppose, there is sense in that.”

“After the child is born will you venture to the Eyrie or to Riverrun first?”

Now Lady Lysa looks rather alarmed at the question. But, seeing Elia’s encouraging look, she glances briefly at her husband who is now talking to Ser Brynden before saying, “Though we have not discussed it, I think he wants to visit the Eyrie first.”

He can hear the smile in Elia’s voice when she asks, “Have you ever ventured there?”

“No.” The tone is flat and unenthusiastic.

Lady Alerie prompts, “But, certainly, you have spoken about what it is like?” 

“Not particularly…” The girl looks vaguely uncomfortable.

The expression on his wife’s face is calculating. “Perhaps you should ask him.” 

The girl looks vaguely interested at the prospect, but, she still frowns, “Would he not find it obtrusive?”

Both other women laugh before Elia replies. “Not truly. If the Eyrie is to be your home and one day your child’s seat, it would be better to be well informed of what it is like.” 

The girl’s eyes widen as though she had not thought of it that way. As the girl looks towards her husband again she catches her uncle’s eye.

Eventually she says, “I think it would please Lord Arryn and my father if I learned what it was like.”

“Of course, but, we meant better for you.” Lady Alerie smiles good-naturedly at Elia’s pronouncement.

The poor girl looked confused, “How do you mean?”

“After all, it would be you who would be mistress of the Eyrie. Both your Lord-Husband and your household would love you for taking such an interest.”

Lady Alerie’s expression is just as crafty. “That is especially true when there is no good-mother to gainsay you when it comes time to make decisions regarding it.” Elia and Lady Alerie laugh fully, but, the latter part of the conversation has filled Rhaegar with disquiet. Is that what Elia had done, at least in the beginning; weighed the benefit of remaining with him and found it more worthwhile than leaving? 

Before he could think on it further the speculative look Lady Arryn sent her husband it seems the words seem to have taken effect. “Oh, I suppose one or two questions could not possibly be frowned upon.” 

Elia nods and takes the time to change subject. No one discusses anything of import after that. 

Soon after Viserys and the two boys who are now being herded back inside by Ser Jaime and Ser Lucas. The rest of them follow quickly after.

* * *

Late that evening he makes his way through the hallway where the sleeping cells of the Kingsguard are kept and stops when he comes across the open doorway of the man he came to see. As he steps through the doorway he takes in the sight of the lone man sitting at the edge of his bed. 

“Is there a need for hiring more seamstresses, Ser Jaime?” The man is sitting with a thread and needle mending his own tunic. Remembering the knight’s ease with his brother and son, he wonders sourly if he should ask if the knight is capable of teaching Rhaenys to embroider as well. The man goes to rise, but, Rhaegar holds up a hand to stop him while the other moves to close the door behind him.

The knight, knowing none of his thoughts, smiles at him, “Not at all, Your Grace. I simply do not wish to bother anyone over a simple matter that I am capable of solving.”

Rhaegar thinks that is his problem with the knight; the knight takes thing upon himself without consulting others on matters. 

“I do not know that many knights who do their own mending.” He knows he should be above such digs, but, he is in no mood to be overly charitable.

The other man laughs. “I doubt there are many like me. When my sister and I were younger we used to look quite similar. A handful of times she would go out and take sword lessons and I took a few with the Septa.” The other man’s smile slips slightly, but he continues, “It is a worthy skill to have.” He finishes abruptly but, the younger man takes a look at the bedside table where Rhaegar can see a letter is perched. At least now he understands something of the sister’s acceptance of Dornish husband’s and his children’s ways; she was just as wild as they were. Rhaegar also remembers Elia told him about how difficult the separation between the Lannister twins had been on the knight’s part. 

That thought alone brings to his lips the reasons for his visit.

“I am told it was your idea to begin my brother’s wrestling lessons.”

The man flushes slightly. “I, ah, yes. Lord Tyrell was also insistent that his children be taught a wider variety of exercises in preparation of Lord Willas’ squiring and Lord Garlan’s fostering and they insisted on joining the Prince’s lessons.”

The distaste in the affronted tone in the knight’s voice about Mace Tyrell was evident. Rhaegar could sympathize with that; however, the knight kept speaking. 

“As it was Prince Viserys has done remarkably well with the sword, but, he is well past the age where more strenuous activities should be included into his studies. The Prince had been vehement about learning and I cannot find a worthy reason to deny him the right to engage in such activities which others of his age engage in.” 

“Is that so?” Even though he is mildly curious at that general consensus the knights in his household seem to have he cannot help but wonder if the other man is implying something about the way Rhaegar approaches his brother’s studies. 

“Yes. I began learning such things when I was younger than the Prince as had the others of the Kingsguard. Lord Willas has already and Lord Tyrell insists on Lord Garlan learning such things and the Prince is his elder by two name days.” 

Though he cannot find an argument against the other man’s reasoning, what his brother is taught was not for others to decide or a matter to be voted on the basis of popular opinion. His eyes again catch the sight of the letter from the man’s sister and Rhaegar remembers Lord Tyrion. He wonders if the man’s manner has something to do with his having a younger brother Viserys’ age; a younger brother who is prevented from doing as others his age would. Still, that would not explain the man’s comportment.

“Perhaps so, but, I wish to know why I was not consulted on the matter first.” He was Viserys’ brother and guardian; his permission ought to be asked.

The younger man tries not to look affected and had Rhaegar not been looking for his reaction he would have missed the narrowing of his eyes and the flush creeping up the other man’s neck as the man’s expression becomes blank.

“I do apologize, Your Grace, however, I had not thought to disturb you with something like this as today’s exercise was simply to test Prince Viserys’ abilities. As it was I only thought of it in the morning and as a precautionary measure I had insisted on Ser Brynden’s presence. Her Grace had not objected. If I had known Your Grace would object, I would have never considered it.”

He wants to sigh at the other’s earnest response, but, he manages to successfully fight the urge. He is not objecting to anything the knight is doing, but, it is rather frustrating to not have been consulted, even if Elia was aware in that moment. Before he left King’s Landing his father had been the one to decide almost everything. After he returned, when it came to Viserys’ education, his input was, it seemed, not expected. He should not know of what his children or siblings are doing only after the fact.

“I am not objecting to anything, Ser Jaime.” He holds up a hand when he thinks the other man is moving to interrupt. “I am also not casting doubts on your abilities or questioning your adherence to duty with respect to all the members of my house.”

Rhaegar knows that while he was gone the knight had been allowed certain liberties, by virtue of necessity. He could understand the protective nature of the man, with respect to Elia and the children, but, there were limits to the familiarity which Rhaegar will accept; especially now.

He continues speaking as he moves towards the door. “I understand that my brother’s education has been left to others and I doubt I could find a better teacher who knows him so well. You are correct that I have duties which unfortunately prevent me from being as attentive as I wish and while it does you great credit that you would take the duties entrusted to you seriously, my brother and the rest of my family are my responsibility and I am at least owed the courtesy of not being taken unawares, regardless of the good intentions behind it. I believe we have spoken about your unwillingness to tell me what I need to know once before.” His wife’s nightmares about his father were something far more serious, but, the principle is the same: if there is something which affects his family, he should be made aware of it.

Rhaegar saw the way the other man, who had been looking at him in a vaguely amused way, looked somber when he finished. Eventually the knight does nod agreeably. He sounded contrite and honest when he said, “Of course, Your Grace; I do apologize. It was remiss of me. In the future, if such a circumstance arises I will keep you appraised; and Her Grace.” 

The last, Ser Jaime, added almost as an after thought, but, still it caused him to abruptly put in, “Or the Lord Commander”. Rhaegar knows he was abrupt, but, he is not entirely ashamed of it. He continues, a bit more sedately, “As for Lord Tyrell, be amiable as you have been, but, do use your discretion. It would not do to encourage him far too excessively. He is a friend, but, also a guest who will take his leave of us soon enough. I will, of course, speak to him myself.” He had already planned on it.

The other man shrugs. “Of course, Your Grace.” 

Knowing the man had been made aware of his concerns he goes to his leave. As he opens the door and steps through the threshold the other man coughs.

“Ser Jaime?”

“Though he mentioned in passing, I believe Prince Viserys has become taken with the idea of going on a hunt.” The man almost looked amused at that.

Deciding that this conversation has been going on longer than warranted he only says, “I see. Well, the answer is no. He certainly will not be doing any such thing.” Rhaegar thinks he may prefer the wrestling.

“I thought as much.” Rhaegar does not doubt that at all.

* * *

After that he returned to his apartments to see Ser Barristan keeping watch outside.

“Ser?” He was not expecting anyone to meet him much less a member of the Kingsguard.

“Her Grace decided to join you this evening.” Rhaegar smiles as he dismisses the other man. 

When he stepped into the ante chamber he took in the way the outer chamber was still well lit, but it is empty. He enters the bedroom to see Elia brushing her hair. She is only wearing her night shift.

When she hears him enter she turns and smiles. He goes to kiss her and she returns it.

When they pull apart he is the first to speak. “I hope I have not kept you waiting for too long.”

“No, not too long, but, I had thought you would be here.”

He nods, “I would have been, but I had something to attend to.”

She looks at him curiously. “What was that something? “

“I went to the wing hosting the Kingsguard’s sleeping cells.”

She frowns, concerned. “At this time of night? Why? Has one of them taken ill?” 

He shakes his head, “No, no; nothing as dire as that. I wished to speak to Ser Jaime.”

She relaxes, but, she is still curious, “About what?”

“Viserys’ wrestling.”

Whatever she was expecting it was not that. She smiles a bit. “Yes. Ser Brynden tells me he did very well for his first time.”

He frowns. “You do not find an issue with it?”

She mirrors his reaction. “No, not truly. I do fear he might get injured, but, he could get injured by playing with swords, or any other weapon, or doing anything else that children of his age do.”

He tilts his head in frustration. “That may be so. Still, I was not aware that Viserys would be wrestling. I suppose now you, like others on the Kingsguard, would tell me you or your brother’s wrestled each other frequently in their youth.”

She looks vaguely amused. “Of course not, my health was hardly sturdy and even in Dorne there are standards by which “ladies” are required to live by. As for my brothers by the time Oberyn was born, Doran was a boy of ten. By the time Oberyn was old enough to start wrestling Doran felt it would have been a grossly unfair advantage on his part. Despite Oberyn’s best efforts he was unsuccessful in his efforts to engage Doran that way. Our parents were eternally grateful for Doran’s good sense. There were always other lads Oberyn’s age in the Water Gardens.” 

Nothing of what she says is all that reassuring. “And Oberyn started wrestling at Viserys’ age?” He doubts he will like the answer.

Looking at her face, she is exponentially more amused. “Younger. But, that does not explain why you felt the need to speak to Ser Jaime about it now.”

“Ser Jaime took it upon himself to encourage it and arranged it without either of my, our, knowing about it or our blessing.”

Her face contorts and despite her efforts laughter slips through her mouth.

His eyes narrow. “What is so humorous?”

She comes to stand in front of him. “I am sorry I laughed.” She certainly does not sound apologetic in the least. Her hands come to grip his arms. “You are usually so occupied with the business of being King, as you should be. We can hardly fault him, or anyone, for not adding to you your burdens when there was no true need.”

He wraps his arms around her, “Should that not for me to decide; if there is a need?”

“Perhaps, but, do you not think you are being slightly unreasonable?”

“No.” He does not in the slightest.

Elia smiles again. “I think you are being far too overprotective.”

“That is the second time I have been accused of being overprotective.”

She grins. “Should that not tell you something?” 

“I am merely being attentive as any older brother would. I can hardly see why that is seen as a fault.” He knows he is not being unreasonable.

She sighs, “Would you require an announcement every time the Maester or the knights of the household wish to deliver a lesson? You would have very little time for anything else. Viserys is just the first. What of when Aegon and Jon grow? Or do you also intend on having to know what the potential lessons set by a Septa are when Rhaenys or Daenerys begin their own respective education?”

“I am glad you seem to find it humorous that I have very little voice in my own brother’s education. Pycelle never seems to mind that I have control over what he teaches my brother. Ser Jaime rarely consults me at all.”

She steps closer; smiling widely. “Viserys is no more fond of Pycelle than you are and Pycelle’s lessons are not nearly as thrilling for a boy his age.” Or a woman of hers, he cannot help but think; he remembers the time he saw her rapt attention as her brother and the knight fought. Something must have shown on his face because a soft “Oh” falls from her lips. 

There was something odd in the way she concedes, “‘Overprotective’ is not the word is it?”

Relived that she finally understands, he replies, “Precisely.”

Her expression becomes dangerously sly, “You are being territorial.”

He stiffens slightly and exclaims, “No, I am not.” He will admit to no such thing. It is his right to be told what goes in with those of his own family.

“Then what else can explain it? There is no reason for you to think that Viserys is any true danger at lessons when there are enough fully trained knights watching him even if it is something new or strenuous.”

“Do you deny that we should have been told?’

She smirks. “As you should recall, I was seated only some distance away. Even without much prior notice, I know a true fight when I see one and none of the boys had a reason to fight. As it was, when they arrived I asked what they had planned and Ser Jaime told me. Viserys was enthusiastic. I could not find a reason to refuse.”

He remains unconvinced and it seems she takes note of it. 

“Now or later, Viserys would learn to wrestle. I rather he knows how to now then need it and be ill prepared.”

“He is a boy. Why would he need to learn such a skill now?”

“Is it not enough that he shows an interest in it? And Ser Jaime has been made aware of your concerns. It could always be far worse.” With that she takes a moment to lounge on one side of his bed. 

He purses his lips as he settles in next to her. “I do not doubt that for a moment. He tells me Viserys wants to go hunting.”

She laughs and lays her head on his chest. “And here you were worried about a bit of wrestling.” 

He narrows his eyes at her, but as he had told Lord Arryn, he would accept whatever sort of truth from Elia, and so, only wraps an arm around her. “You find too much humor in my consternation.”

Elia snorts inelegantly as she leans in closer. “Hardly. You are my husband. Such a thing would not be proper.” 

That fact is belied by the snigger she levels at him. She sighs, “Speaking of husbands and wives shall we speak about the Arryns?”

He nearly groans at the slow progress made with that. “They do not speak.”

She smiles sadly, “No they do not. They seem to avoid each other. Perhaps that will change, or at least it might from Lady Lysa’s perspective.”

“Yes, that is so.” Thinking back to this morning he remembers something caused his some anxiety and he asks, “Why did you take that approach with Lady Lysa?”

She looks confused for a moment and so he elaborates. “You and Lady Alerie spoke as though it would be of use to speak to Jon and know about the Eyrie for her personal gain rather than something she simply should do. How would that improve their marriage at all?”

He cannot help but remember his earlier thoughts. She takes a deep breath. “You spend far too much time thinking, Rhaegar.”

“And just how do you know what I think?”

He can tell she wishes to roll her eyes at him, but, she does embrace him more tightly. “You are rather easy to predict at times.”

When he says nothing more, she prompts, “We do know the benefits Lord Arryn had by entering the marriage.” Everyone did. “And to her it was unfair that she gets a much older husband who was a virtual stranger who made his views about what she brings to the marriage fairly plain.”

He frowns, “By showing her the advantage of the match for her, you think it would incite a more favorable comportment from her.”

She nods. “Yes, that is the idea.”

“And that makes it right?”

She shakes her head, “Not precisely, but, if it cause her to be more enthusiastic about speaking to our Hand or something her husband cares for that can only be a good thing.”

“Is it?” Can that be a good thing? He is not sure. Mere enthusiasm about one aspect of a marriage does not mean enthusiasm for the rest of it. He was well aware of the negative effects of that sort of thinking could have.

She counters, “It is better than whatever it is they have now. The more they speak to one another the more she will come to understand he is a good man. Certainly he is willing to try with her, is he not?”

“Yes, but, he is not a man who will court her.”

Her voice is soft, “I do not think she would welcome such a thing from him; not now. Still, kindness and a willingness to not disregard her as unimportant will help matters along quite considerably. ”

Remembering his own less than reassuring conversation with Lord Arryn he asks, “You are sure of it?”

“As much as I can be.” She shrugs as though that is all she can say about it.

Remembering his thoughts this morning he cannot help but ask, “Well, even understanding will not change things as they are.”

“No, but, I am sure when they get to know each other more fully she will warm to him as he is. These things will take time to improve. They always do.”

“Even if he never is a type of man she prefers?” He ventures towards the topic he truly wants to speak about.

“I cannot speak as to what type of man she would have preferred, but, even then, there is room for improvement of their relationship.”

“But, you would know what type you prefer?” He is almost aghast by the way he asked that.

She is shocked for a moment, but, her expression settles into something which he could describe as amusement. “I would think I do, but, is it not far too late to be asking me such things now?”

“Should I not know you favor knights such as Baelor Hightower and Jaime Lannister? You speak highly of them.”

She laughs. “I did not say you should be ignorant of such things. However, I had not said anything about preferring those you mention, even though I do think of them very highly.”

He frowns. “But, you do not deny you prefer knights.” 

She looks as though she is bursting fit to laugh. “Not at all.” 

His own advice about hearing truths is difficult to accept. He regrets voicing this entirely.

She smirks at him, “I think you are forgetting something.”

He frowns at her. “What could I possibly be forgetting? I certainly am not without good hearing.”

He gasps at the unexpected weight of her body as she straddles him. “Perhaps so, but, it seems your memory is rather faulty. I did marry a knight.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Is it not too late to be working?” 

Stannis Baratheon, at the sound of his wife’s voice, huffs out a breath and looks up at where she is standing in the doorway. “No.” 

Evidently, what he says matters not because she walks into the room shutting the door firmly behind her.

“The hour grows late.” She says it as though he had not understood her meaning the first time. 

He knows what it looks like outside; he has eyes and a window. He will not deny that it is dark; however, that alone has no bearing on his abilities. “It is not so late that I cannot continue to do work.” 

She smiles wryly and he wonders at it. If he had said such things to others, they leave him be. They certainly do not smile at him and perch themselves upon his desk without his leave. His wife is not like most others. On most days he it can be a blessing; at this moment, it is not. “You think I do not know that you would continue to work long past when other would desist for the day.”

“I have more responsibilities than others and others are far more lax with respect to their work.” No matter how others see their responsibilities, he is the Lord of Storm’s End. Even if he was never supposed to be, he is responsible for those who live within the borders of Storm’s End and the Stormlands. Even if he owes nothing to those who call him Lord Paramount he owes it to both Robert and his father to do his duty properly.

She leans in closer to him. “I am not denying that.”

He narrows his eyes. “Then what are you saying?”

“That it is late enough and you should retire to bed.” 

“I will retire when I am tired.” To make his point, he jabs the parchment in front of him with his quill more stridently than he was accustomed to doing.

“You would not retire even if you were tired.” He ignores the laughter in her voice; and the truth.

“Then why is it that we are having this discussion?” 

“I think you work far too much.” He frowns. He is not a stranger to that sentiment being delivered from her; or from others, for that matter.

“My L-Ashara, I think you say that too much.” 

She snorts, “Then perhaps you ought to listen to what I say on occasion, Stannis.” He clenches his teeth. ‘Of all the women he could have married he marries the most stubborn woman he ever come across’, he thinks.

He gestures to the pile of papers and ledgers strewn across his desk. “There is far too much work to be done to listen to your multiple admonishments to “not work too much”. 

At that she plucks the writing tool out from his hands. “Work will keep until tomorrow.”

He extends his hand. “I should like you to return that.” 

“And suppose I do not.” Though her words are a blatant challenge there is humor in her violet eyes and he finds himself grinding his teeth more until he stops when he sees how she tilts her head.

He keeps his voice low. “Do not tempt me.”

She smirks at him and leans in even closer, “And if I wish that you would tempt me?” Her smirk becomes wider.

At his wife’s forwardness he frowns, “You are being highly improper.”

He wondered briefly if forwardness was a common trait of all Dornishwomen or if this trait was simply unique to his, in particular. He rarely was in the presence of other women of Dorne and so he could not accurately determine markers for what passed for appropriate parameters of behavior when it came to Dornishwomen. The Queen always acted fittingly in his presence, but, no woman would be a respected queen if she disregarded proper decorum in public. He only had the vague recollections of his wife’s younger sister, Allyria. The Martells older girls were loud and brash, but, they were also children. None of that serves tells him anything; much less about how he was to interact with his wife in this particular instance.

She smiles, archly, and walks away from him slightly, with his quill still in her hands. “No one will deny that; certainly not I.”

“My Lady-” He starts.

She interjects, “I believe we have had this discussion before; my name is ‘Ashara’, not ‘My Lady’. You were doing so well not even a moment ago. I should not have to remind you that it is far too late for such formalities. A great many moons have passed since I have become your wife. As for propriety, no one else but the guards on duty are awake enough to argue about it and no one would dare accuse the Lord and Lady of Storm’s End were being improper. There are far fewer who would even believe such a thing would be possible.” His wife is odd as are her arguments and what passes for her amusement.

“Well, Ashara, I am not done with my work and as you say, you have been my wife for as long as you have; you should know that I do not take my responsibilities lightly.” 

At that she comes to stand behind him, but, not before she put the quill down on a table outside of his reach. If this had been anyone else he would have went to go retrieve the quill, ordered them out of the room, and begin working again, but, he does not. His own behavior when it comes to his wife is strange to him, even now.

He does not flinch away when he feels her hands on his shoulders. He wonders why he starts to notice how warm her hands are. His reverie is broken by her reply of, “Yes, and I know that you do not. Everyone does. But, I am asking you to stop working for tonight. It will keep.”

“Why?” He was certain he was not registering a complaint or that it would have sounded like he was to her ears; however, she did not usually make it a point to interrupt him; certainly not for this long.

“I wished to speak to you.” He was no lackwit; he knew that. She would not be here otherwise.

“You _are_ speaking to me.” He was hoping she would get to the point of this conversation; whatever it was.

“That is not what I meant.” 

He almost sighed. “I could not possibly know what it is you mean.” 

His wife is usually forthright, but, he does not understand her completely and certainly not at all times; not at this moment, in particular.

“You are incredibly frustrating at times, Stannis.” She has said that before as well. He knows he is described this way. Renly, in his impudence, tells him something similar at least once day. He considers himself fortunate Alya and Mya are still young enough to where they have not developed that habit as of yet; though he was certain that would start soon enough. Still, it has very little to do with anything.

“You sought out my company.” 

He does not need to see her to know that she is stifling a laugh. “I know.” Despite the words, her tone is odd. 

He turns, looking up at her. “Is there a particular reason why you wished to speak to me?”

“Of course.” His wife was usually a pragmatic person; despite her peculiar humor whatever she wanted to speak to him about would be sensible if she sought him out at this hour.

A silence builds. “Well?”

Moments tick by and he frowns, concerned. Ashara was never the type to be silent; whether or not he wanted her to be. She certainly had not stopped talking since she ventured into the room until this moment. “What is it?”

She looks nervous. This was also rare and disconcerting.

“I have been to see Maester Cressen.”

He stared at his wife. That was most unusual. She did not look ill; however, he was no Maester. “Why? Have you taken ill?”

She shakes her head. “No, I am not ill. I am with child.” 

_With child?_ The silence builds for some time until she prompts, nervously, “Will you not say anything?”

His eyes fly up to look at hers. “I see.” She is with child. His wife is with child. He is to have a child; of his own. He had not been expecting this. He frowns briefly, wondering why he is so surprised; it is not as though their marriage is unconsummated. It would have happened at one time or another. It should have happened and apparently it has.

Her face morphs into something he is surprised at; fondness. She eagerly replies, “Will you say something more? That is less than enthused than I had hoped.”

“You are with child.” She smiles at him, but, quirks an eyebrow. He knows both from experiences in his youth and his sojourns to King’s Landing and the Vale that he does not have the charm of Robert but no one expected eloquence from him; except, apparently, his wife. 

Ashara is smiling at him; pulling closer to him. “Yes, I said that.”

“I am to be a father.” That is not much better. He is aware he sounds like a simpleton and he is angry at himself because of it. Still, his wife seems more amused. He supposes that is well enough.

“That is the way of things, yes.” She becomes nervous again, “Does it please you?”

It is an odd question. He knew it was his duty to have a child, and had always known it. It became more of a duty since he had become Lord of Storm’s End, but, to find pleasure was different thing all together. Pleasure, he had long since decided, something he neither expected nor hoped for. However, does it please him to have a child? He has some experience with Renly and Ashara’s and Robert’s girls, but, this was to be a child is one of his own. 

“Yes, it does.” He means it. She nods and smiles again.

He cannot help but ask, “Does it please you?” He knew why he married her and he knew some of what prompted her to marry him, but, today, he decided he wanted her to want this, want his child.

“Yes.” It was just one word but he believes her.

He does not know why his body which was so tense just moments ago is not now. “Good.”

She echoes him smiling. “Good.”

She kisses him. 

When they pull apart she asks, “How should we tell Renly and the girls?”

He looks at her, perplexed. “What sort of question is that?” 

He cannot help but be rather exasperated at the way she laughs at the oddest things. “Just what is it that you find so humorous?” 

Her laughter dies down far more slowly than he wishes. 

When it does, she sighs, “We ought to approach this carefully.”

“What?” He cannot comprehend the statement she made.

“They are children, Stannis.”

“I am aware of what they are, Ashara.”

“They will have thoughts about this.”

He frowns at her declaration. “Thoughts about what? We will be telling them about our child, it is not an opinion.”

“Oh, Stannis-“

He looks at her, “There is no need for that. There is to be a new child in the household. It is not a complex idea or something, save for Mya, they are unused to.”

She smiles again. “Still, Stannis, upheaval like that requires a certain level of gentleness.” 

He stares at her. Gentleness, they both knew, was not a quality he possessed. “Did you wish to inform them of this by yourself?”

His wife laughed far too easily at him for his comfort.

He could not help but grumble, “Are you quite done?”

Her reaction becomes more sober, but, her eyes are filled with humor. “Yes, but, that is not what I was saying at all.”

Of course, it was not; his life did not allow for such simplicity. “Then what are you saying?”

“To start with, when should we tell them?”

He has no preference; but, he doubts Ashara will find that as an acceptable answer. “Tomorrow morning.” She nods. Was that it?

“And should we tell them individually or together?” He frowns. What difference does that make?

He shrugs. “Does it matter?”

She smiles. “It does not unless you would like to listen to arguments about who was told first.”

Incredulously he asks, “Do you expect them to raise a mutiny?” Renly can be rather boisterous in the way he remembers Robert was when they had been younger, but, certainly he would not argue if either Alya or Mya were told before him; or at least he does not think so.

She looks away and he is far too uninspired to demand she stop taking merriment in his questions. This evening alone tells him it is not worth the effort. When she returns her gaze to him she offers, “Did you wish to have the potential for arguments or avoid them entirely?”

He sighs and she smirks. “We will tell them tomorrow; after breakfast. Anything else?”

“Yes.” Of course, there is.

“What now?” A look is sent his way which he does not comment upon.

“I plan on writing to Starfall.”

“Naturally.” The Daynes would want to be told; they should be told. 

She purses her lips. What now? “Since there is obviously something more, tell me.”

“I would write to King’s Landing.”

He forces himself to not roll his eyes. She speaks as though he would stop her from writing to whoever she wants; about this especially. “Yes, yes, Ser Arthur and the Queen would probably like to know. Write to whoever else you desire.”

She blinks at him for a moment and he wonders why. “Now, what is that look for?”

“You do not have to call my brother ‘Ser’.” 

“That is his title.”

“But, that is not his name.”

He is aware of what her brothers’ names are. “I said ‘Arthur’.” 

“Oh, very well, but, if we are ever in his presence calling him by his title is not necessary.” She sounds so put-upon and he wonders at it. He would have hoped he should be accustomed to his use of formal speech by now, at least, but, judging by this entire conversation she is resolved not to be.

“As you say.” He will not argue with her about it. His wife is stubborn. She would continue to clash with him if he did. He can find numerous things to do in the time he would waste on that.

Clearly, she did not wish to press the matter forward either because she continues, “And do you wish to write to Greenstone or shall I?”

“You can write it, if you wish.” He remembers mother’s family at his wedding. They would appreciate a letter from his pretty wife far more than they would if it came from him.

She nods. “Is there anyone you would write to?”

He ruminates on the question. He frowns. His brother will know tomorrow and aside from the Estermonts he has very little family. The King’s family was kin, after a fashion, but, Ashara would have written to the Queen eventually. He certainly was not going to write to all and sundry. After a moment, he decided, “If you are writing to King’s Landing I will write to Lord Arryn.”

The answer pleases her, because she smiles widely at him. “Yes, of course. I am sure he would appreciate it.”

He does not know that for fact; but, Robert would have written to the man and Lord Arryn had given him use of his home for a time. It was the least he could do. He continues, “I will also speak to Maester Cressen about letters to our bannermen.”

He looks at Ashara who nods back and he asks, “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

Her lips twitch upwards. “No; not tonight. It is far too late.” He frowns. Those words are almost the same ones she used when she first stepped into the room; but, it is now that it becomes too late for a ‘discussion’? She continues, “We ought to retire.”

“We?” He wonders how much she would press him on this and why he does not feel angry about it. 

“Certainly.” 

He sighs. “You will not let me continue with my work tonight, will you?”

“No.” There was no hesitation in her voice; or shame, for that matter. However, he had surmised there would not be.

He looks at her, “No?” 

“No.” She is firm, then. 

“You are stubborn.”

She smirks, “You say that as if you are not.” At least, she is direct.

He sighs again, “Very well Ashara, we shall retire.”

She beams and he tries to ignore how he is not angry with himself or at her even though he acquiesced to her too easily.

* * *

Rhaegar pulls on the arm wrapped around his wife’s to bring her closer to him as he sees Ser Jaime directs some attendants to place a chest in one of the carriages standing by waiting to depart. Rhaegar can hear Lord Tyrell barking out orders of his own. Elia said nothing, but, she pressed closer to his side. Her attention, however, also stayed on the hustle and bustle in front of them. 

He gestures in the direction of the head of the caravan, whispering in her ear. “Do you think we are doing the correct thing?” They both watch as more trunks are loaded onto carriages. There are only a few more which need to be loaded and then the convoy will start on its way out of the city. 

“What?” Elia purses her lips as she watches the scene in front of her distractedly.

“This visit.” 

“What of it, Rhaegar?” He almost sighs at the absentminded question. 

“I do not like this.”

That pierced her attention and Elia begins staring at him. “You do not like what?” 

“We have planned exhaustively; there should be nothing to worry about.” Her eyes widen. “Are you having misgivings about Viserys-” 

At his silence, she exclaims, “This was your doing.” He needs no reminder of that. He regrets this very much so.

“Yes, and you also agreed. I believe your exact words were, ‘Yes, would that not be wonderful?’” He was hoping she would agree with him now, but, such is not the circumstance he is presented with.

She counters, “And ‘He ought to see some of the realm’, were your words.” Rhaegar cannot deny he said those things. He has been actively trying to forget it.

“I know what I said, Elia.” He moves his gaze directed to where the children were. Viserys and Rhaenys were standing some feet away; also watching the scene in front of them, wide-eyed blissfully unaware of his thoughts. Viserys has one of Rhaenys’ hands clutched in one of his own. Viserys was grinning excitedly, talking to Rhaenys, who in turn, was eagerly listening to him. 

“Rhaegar, what caused you to change your mind; so quickly, at that?” 

He frowns. Viserys had been happy since he learned that he was to go to the Reach, and then, to Dorne. As Elia had said, it was his idea, but, now, even seeing how animated his brother is to leave, he does not like it.

Rhaegar has to look away. “A man is allowed to have doubts.” That he does have doubts at all, let alone about a simple thing like this, does not sit well with him. 

She tilts her head; incredulity plain on her face. “Since when are you ‘just a man’, much less, one who has doubts?” She narrows her eyes. “For how long have you been thinking about this?” She points in front of her, her voice tinged with some frustration, “There is very little time left before they ready to leave.” 

“I was not expecting this, but, do you think we can tell Lord Tyrell to leave Viserys behind?” 

A pointed glance in his direction and a response of “And you are going to tell Viserys, the Tyrells, and my brothers he cannot leave King’s Landing, why?” tells him her answer is ‘no’. He wonders if Elia used to be this difficult or if this was something new.

“I am the King and Viserys’ brother. Certainly my lack of agreement can count for something.” He knows it is a weak argument, but, if it succeeds, then that can only be a good thing. 

She counters, “It is all prepared; it would be insulting to change those plans now.”

“Children do not have to make such visits; there will be time for that later. Who would be insulted? Mace Tyrell? He and his family would have left for the Reach with or without Viserys. Or is it your brothers that you do not wish to insult?”

The moment he said that he regretted it immensely. Though her expression had not changed, she pulled away slightly and her voice was deceptively soft in his ear when she says, “What is it that you are fighting? As you say, Viserys is a child and plans change, but, these plans were well made and these are coordinated efforts; many having taken part. His hosts will not be the only one insulted.”

“I am not fighting anything. I simply believe plans should be changed.” He does not exactly explain what caused him to change his perspective; but, he knows it has changed.

She looks at him confusedly, “Why?” 

He shrugs, “Why, what? Plans change constantly.” 

She presses her hands together and looks away from him. “Of course they do, but, we would need a very good reason. It would not do to be seen as indecisive; even about something as minor as this. What of Viserys? He will be greatly disappointed.”

He knows what she says is sensible, but, he follows her eyes as they rest on his brother and their daughter. “Rhaenys will be disappointed that he goes.”

Elia takes a hand in hers and looks at him with something akin to amusement. “You would use our young daughter’s emotions against me and Viserys? That is original, at least. Still, Rhaegar, I believe you were there when Rhaenys said she wanted to go herself.”

That was the truth. Rhaenys, too young to go herself, had simultaneously been excited for Viserys and upset that her playmate could go but she could not. As such, the pair of them had spent much time together and that time was quickly coming to an end; far too quickly for Rhaegar’s taste, not that he would admit such a thing. Viserys’ leave was imminent; the idea of Rhaenys also leaving is ghastly.

He could only grouse, “Our children are far too independent for my taste.” 

She laughs, as she squeezes his hand. “Is that right? My dear husband, if our children’s independence worries you now, what will we do when are grown? This is just a matter of a few moons time. Even if we never let Viserys squire or be fostered, what of Aegon or Jon? Or when Rhaenys and Daenerys marry?” 

“That is very cruel of you wife; reminding me of that on today of all days.” Neither of them mentions that Viserys and Daenerys are not exactly ‘their children’.

After a moment he queries, “Do you think he will dislike me if I refuse to let him go?” It had been an odd revelation that he wanted Viserys and his other children to like him. In his father’s later years he knew his father had certainly not liked him.

“He certainly will not thank you for telling him he cannot visit with his friends after you agreed.”

“He’s going far farther than Oldtown.”

She raises an eyebrow, “I know where he is going, and even though this was your idea, we decided it together. Or is it that you do not want him to go to Sunspear?”

“I am not saying that.” Rhaegar is certain Viserys could be going to Rosby and he would not like it.

“Then what are you saying, Rhaegar? This certainly sounds like you do not wish for him to go.” She snorts inelegantly, but, leans in to him again. “Or is this less about him going than it is this your territorial nature coming through?”

That reply caused him to stiffen, “What makes you ask that? Why is it that you insist on asking if that is what is causing this every time?”

She presses closer to him and it is rather distracting; but, he takes notice of the playfulness in her eyes. “Because mine husband, I cannot explain whatever reluctance causes this otherwise; unless by some chance you are upset that he would rather go to places away from King’s Landing and Summerhall is not amongst the ones he does want to see.”

He puts a hand discreetly on the small of her back and leans towards her to whisper, “That is not particularly humorous, wife.” He had spent many a night at Summerhall, but, he had not ventured to any place in the Stormlands recently and Viserys had not shown much of an interest in the ruins of the place. That does not matter to him. 

She shakes her head, “Perhaps so; however, I require a better explanation, husband; as will his potential hosts; as will Viserys.”

“What is there to explain? I do not think it would be wise for Viserys to go to anywhere much less to places far away from King’s Landing.”

She smirks at him. “Is it reluctance to let Viserys go because you truly think this particular venture is not wise, that he is going at all, or is it that Ser Jaime is going with Viserys?”

“That is a baseless question.” His tone is clipped, but, he squeezes the hand in his.

He ignores her smile. “Is it? I seem to remember you were quite eager, even with Lady Alerie’s indulgence of the children, until Ser Jaime asked if he could escort Viserys. Or is it that you believe now that Cersei is with child Ser Jaime will not be as attentive to his duties.” 

He snorts. “I doubt that and that is not why I object.” 

“Well, then why do you?” He ignores the curious look she levels at him.

“He is just a child and even elder brothers can change their minds. Or is being, as you call me, over-protective, not enough of a reason?”

Incredulous laughter bubbles up from her. “Not good enough of a reason, I am afraid.” Clearly his argument is one with too many holes with his wife.

Now it is he who narrows his eyes at his wife’s stubbornness. “I have told you my reasons. What others reasons do you need?”

It looks as though she is trying to fight a smile. “Valid ones. Viserys has been quite eager for this. Of course, even if he has not, while it is true that he is a child, he is a prince; first and foremost. If he is old enough to sit in on council meetings, he is old enough to leave King’s Landing for a few weeks.”

He dislikes the arguments his wife makes intensely. Instead of addressing them, he replies, “You are awfully eager for him to be gone.”

He tries not to wince both at his words and the rather sharp pressure on his foot. He looks at to his wife, who, unless one knew what to look for, seemed to be shocked and apologetic as she removes her foot from where it was firmly planted a moment ago. He never thought his wife would be daring, but, it seems he is wrong about that. He should have known his wife’s Dornish temper would have manifested at some time or another; but, he admits, his words were rather unjust. That does not stop him from leveling a mock glare at her and whisper in her ear, “It is treason to do harm to a king.”

She whispers back softly, “Even a king ought to know better than to make accusations about a woman’s motherly affections.” She continues, sighing, while she keeps her gaze directed at his younger brother, “Do not think for one moment that I will miss him terribly, but, it is only for a few weeks and I would hate to disappoint him.”

He knows he is fighting a losing battle and so he only grumbles, “You indulge him too much.”

She smiles, “Perhaps, I do, but, that is my prerogative.”

“Where does that leave me?” He recognizes he is being particularly maudlin, but, that is the crux of some of his misgivings. He had always been a solemn man and taken more of an interest books, music, the realm, and prophesies than he had in children for their own selves; now, much to his shame that was true even with respect to his own children. Rhaenys, even though she is his first child, is a girl child and he does not interact much with her; even now. Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys were much still much too young. Before he had very little to do with Viserys and if he was honest, he did not seek his brother out much. When he came to recognize he wanted to, and given that Viserys was the only one he could take an active interest in, his brother’s time and attention had been taken up by too many others and too many other things. That it is partially his doing fills him with dismay. 

She looks at him, frowning confusedly. “What do you mean ‘Where does that leave you?’ Viserys idolizes you. He loves you.”

“Because he has to and it is not as though he does not respect or enjoy the company of others.”

Before she can reply, Viserys, Rhaenys, Lord Mace, Lady Alerie, and their two children make their way towards them with Ser Jaime following at a discreet distance. Rhaegar looks once more in front of him. They are ready to leave. Elia looks at him, questioningly, but, not accusingly. It tells him that she will abide by what he says. Though he is grateful for that, it does not make this any easier for him.

Mace Tyrell speaks first while Lady Alerie curtseys and the two boys mimic their father’s bow of their heads. “Your Grace, the preparations have come completed.”

“Thank you, Lord Tyrell.” The man returns a simple, “Your Grace.” Turning towards Lady Alerie, Rhaegar says, “My lady, I wish you and your children safe travels. It was a pleasure to have you here”. The woman smiles at him and at Elia who voices similar sentiments. Mace Tyrell, with a bow and a “Please allow us to take your leave, Your Grace”, escorts his family towards the wheel-house intended for Lady Tyrell and the youngest boy. 

Turning towards Viserys he puts a hand on his brother’s shoulders. “Now, Viserys…” He begins as Viserys starts to straighten his spine; the look on his young face is hopeful. At Elia’s encouraging look he sighs and starts again, “Be respectful of Lord Mace and Lady Alerie on your journey. I expect that you be respectful and polite to all of your hosts and any elders you encounter.” He finds himself smiling back at Viserys, whose smile is blinding.

His brother nods eagerly, “I will Rhaegar.”

He continues, “Mind Ser Jaime. I want no reports of mischief. ”

“Yes, Rhaegar.” That is accompanied by an eye-roll from his brother.

He moves his hand so it rests on Viserys’ head. The texture of his younger brother’s hair, in addition to the color, is very similar to his own. “You do realize that if I see any more of that cheek I will not let you go at all and if I come to learn of more of it I can have you ordered back even if you never arrive at any of your planned destinations.” He is not entirely positive if he does not mean that. If Rhaegar is fortunate, Viserys would never know how close he came to actually not being able to go at all because of him.

“You wouldn’t!” At that outraged squeak he can see Ser Jaime grinning and Elia trying to stifle her laughter behind a hand.

“I will if you do not behave yourself and fail comport yourself appropriately.” He was sure that sounded vaguely paternal. Or at least he tried for a tone which was more reminiscent of Doran than their father or Tywin Lannister.

Viserys’ face is now tinged with worry as he replies with a nervously earnest, “I will act properly. I swear it, Rhaegar.” He fights the frown building on his face. He had not meant for Viserys to be nervous, but, he supposes his words were more severe than he intended. 

He nods, “I know you will.”

He is not usually demonstrative, but, he wraps an arm around his younger brother and his brother returns a tight embrace. He finds himself almost reluctant to let go.

Viserys looks up at him once more. “I will miss you.”

“And I will miss you.” With no more he could say he lets his brother go and Viserys is swept into Elia’s arms. 

Rhaegar turns towards Ser Jaime, “Do keep an eye on him.”

The knight replies, smiling faintly, “Yes, of course. But, how certain is Your Grace about wanting news about every bit of mischief?”

Remembering his and the knight’s last private conversation and his brother’s behavior he considers the question. His brother, he knows and is told, is not a habitual trouble-maker, but, is not well-behaved at all times, and so he is certain his brother will engage in a bit of tomfoolery at one time or another. Ordinarily that would not worry him, but, this was no ordinary circumstance. Though he is hopeful things will go well enough in Oldtown and Highgarden, remembering his brother is going to stay with his wife’s brothers and their raucous daughters does not ease his discomfort. While Ser Jaime is capable and that Doran is a sensible man, Oberyn would likely encourage Viserys in mischief.

Seeing Ser Jaime’s attentive expression, he settles on, “If it is minor and the matter settled with a talk with him then I do not need to know. If he does anything that either Her Grace or I would punish him for I expect that you would discipline him as we would and for you to use your discretion about sending a raven about what happened. If he almost causes or does cause a diplomatic incident, try to curb the fallout as much as possible and send a raven immediately.” 

The knight’s eyebrows rise spectacularly. “Your Grace expects a diplomatic incident?” He nearly winced; the last time he left King’s Landing and ventured into Dorne, to say that it caused a diplomatic incident is an understatement.

“No, but, I would rather be prepared.” Anything could happen and he would not be there to prevent any such thing, even if nothing Viserys could do on his own could match his exploits. 

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Very well, then I leave my brother to your charge for the time being.” If there was a possessive tone to his voice the other man does not react to it.

With that done he turns to where Elia, despite her previous nonchalant words, is tightly hugging a positively beaming Viserys and admonishing him to be good and write to her frequently. Rhaegar decides he will not mention this observation to her; lest his other foot get stomped on or worse.

After his wife lets his brother go, Viserys gets one more hug from Rhaenys after promising to give her a gift upon his return.

With that Elia turns to Ser Jaime and wishes him a safe journey and asks to send along her love to her brothers and their families. It is far too quickly after that when Ser Jaime and Viserys mount their waiting horses.

Rhaegar, with Elia and Rhaenys beside him, watches as the convoy begins to move. Viserys waves back cheerfully and he tries to muster up some semblance of a smile for his brother to accompany his own more restrained gesture. They stay watching until the caravan has moved out of sight. While the trio walks silently into the Red Keep they make their way into the nursery. No member of the family is seen until they are expected for dinner. 

* * *

Jon Arryn looks up confusedly at the knock on the door of his Solar. 

He was not expecting anyone this late in the evening. It certainly was not going to be Lysa. Though she had proved more eager to hear about the Eyrie and the Vale once in a while at their occasionally shared meals, they were still dreadfully formal with one another. She rarely, if ever, sought him out. Even if she had need of him, which was rare enough, certainly she would not have come here now. 

It surely was not the King. He had seen the King at the midday meal, and there was nothing pressing the King would want to speak to him about. Of course, the King had not been particularly effusive lately. The younger man was never the talkative sort, but, he had become less so these past few days, instead spending the bulk of his time not at court with his family. Jon suspected the departure of Prince Viserys had much to do with it and he loathed to press the other man on it.

Additionally, there was no council meeting today or tomorrow. Of the members of the Small Council still in King’s Landing, Tywin Lannister and Emmon Frey, in particular, would certainly not venture to his Solar themselves though they could potentially send someone if they had need of him; but, they would not at this hour. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was a frequent enough visitor to these rooms, and Maester Pycelle to a lesser degree, but, he could not think of a reason they would venture here today at this time.

He shook his head. He would not know what the knock was about if he never let the person on the other side of the door into the room. “Enter!”

Sure enough, it was no one he had thought of. It was the young boy who delivered letters from the Maester. It was odd. He was not expecting any sort of correspondence. He had just sent a raven to the Eyrie the day before. Far too little time had passed for his letter to reach the Vale; let alone for there to be a return reply. 

“My lord Hand, a letter came for you”, the boy started, holding up a letter. 

“Did it, now? Where did it come from?”

“They came from Storm’s End.”

He felt shock and a slight pang at the words. Who would be writing to him from Storm’s End and for what purpose? And, ‘they’? How many letters came from Storm’s End? Confusedly, he looks at the boy. He queried, “They?”

The boy nodded. “Yes, my lord Hand. Three letters came from Storm’s End today including this one for you.” 

“Oh, I see.” He did not, but, the boy said no more and he did not bother asking even if he was curious. Three missives from one place meant some news of great import. 

“Thank you. You can go.”

After the boy left, he turned the letter over and saw the crest on the letter. The sigil of the Baratheon stag enclosing the envelope merely confirmed what the boy had said: the letter was indeed from Storm’s End. He could not stop himself from feeling a pang at the realization. 

He opened it to see a less of a letter and more of a note. He smiled in spite of himself looking at the sender’s identity; and at Stannis’ insistence at the lack of platitudes. Though he could not say he received that many letters, or truly, any at all, from Stannis, he should have suspected that any letter from the younger man would contain only so many signs of personal embellishments. Now he knows that to be true because the only variety of such things is inclusion of their formal titles. With that he is reminded again about how different Stannis and Robert proved to be; even though they were quite close in age. Though the news Stannis writes to him about is of the felicitous sort, and for a moment he is very happy about it, his smile slipped almost immediately at the flow of thoughts. 

That Robert’s family, like Ned’s, is growing, should fill him with joy, he cannot forget that Robert’s family is growing without Robert. Robert, like his Elbert, never got the chance to be a husband. However, unlike Elbert, Robert had been a father, even though he had not much time to act like one; and now he cannot act like one, either. He closes his eyes and his mind conjures up images and memories of Robert growing up and even some where Robert was with Mya. 

Having observed Stannis with Lord Renly and Lady Ashara’s girl he was confident the younger man would make a fine, if stern, father to this future child; still, he cannot find it in him to forget that one of the girls Stannis now acts as a father to is Robert’s child, while the other is daughter to Ned’s brother. 

He sighed. Such musings are unkind of him. No amount of thinking about Elbert or Robert will get them back and he certainly should not begrudge anyone for living their life after deaths in their family. He had tried to do the same. It is not the fault of anyone else his life is not how he had imagined or hoped it would be.

He wants to be happy for Stannis; in the same way he tries to be happy for Ned, but, he finds himself slightly jealous of them both, even though he knows he should not be. He loves Ned fiercely; but, in Ned’s letters to him he can read how Ned’s Tully wife holds him in a certain regard while his own wife does not. Ned, though he had married the woman intended for his brother, was happy with his wife and young son; happy and far away. Jon had been here to see Stannis marry Lady Ashara. Though they had not married for love, he knew the both of them got on well and now, they too, were expecting a child. The very fact that Stannis Baratheon, who had known him only as his brother’s foster-father, wrote a letter to him says that he is happy with the course of his life. 

He had married for duty to his house just as they did, but, even though he, too, is to be a father soon, the same happiness which comes from exactly that is denied him. 

He shakes his head. He gets up to take a walk. It will not help him to stop thinking of the fortunes of others or his misfortunes; nor will it help to erase his feelings, but, no good came from hiding away in his Solar. As strange as it was, the voice in his head sounded very much like the King’s.

For some minutes he wanders through the halls of the Red Keep occasionally nodding in greeting to the rare individual passing by. He was taken aback at how late it was. The King had been what passed for his being uncharacteristically vocal and outright advised him not to work so much; but, what else was there for him but work? The younger man can give him all the lax duties he wants in the hopes of helping him focus his attention on his marriage, but, Lysa Tully will not adopt the pragmatic nature of Elia Martell simply because it might become easier for him. Lysa had disliked him for so long and only recently had begun to accept even conversation from him. He would not press himself on her more than he already had. She was giving him a child; his child. He would be foolish to demand more. With her he felt so old; he did not have the strength or the desire to fight her on things. 

So lost in thought was he that he almost failed to hear the sound of familiar laughter. When he stopped to investigate the source of it he saw Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, and Oswell Whent sitting in an alcove talking and laughing. As Jon steps closer to them it seems to him, by the looks of it, they have been drinking. Being who they were, Jon thought it was very unusual; but, he assumed there were other members of the Kingsguard, aside from Ser Jaime who was accompanying the young prince on his journey, on duty tonight.

As he drew nearer he heard Ser Oswell say, “Arthur, you are quite pleased by this”.

Arthur responded, rather indignantly, “Of course I am!” He laughed. “Why should I not celebrate being an uncle once more with a prospect of more and more nieces and nephews to come?” Ser Arthur punctuated that with a sip of wine.

Jon smiles faintly, thinking that now he knows why they are doing as they are. He also comes to know that one of the other letters from Storm’s End was meant for Ser Arthur. Lady Ashara would write to her brother about her impending motherhood. The third letter, then, was likely for the Queen; after all, she was Lady Ashara’s closest feminine friend. 

In the dim light Ser Oswell grins widely at the excited future uncle, “You do realize that in order to get you your future additional nieces and nephews, your sister and her husband would have to-”

Ser Arthur looked a bit tinged with green when he turned back to Ser Oswell. “I would thank you not to discuss my sister’s marital activities even if I am not anywhere near; or my brother’s for that matter. There are things a man does not need to think about.”

Ser Oswell laughs, “You are awfully prudish for a Dornishman!” At the look he receives, he holds his hands up in surrender, “I jest, but, certainly does it not make you wonder about her life with Stannis Baratheon? He is so serious all the time.”

Even though the silver haired knight is well into his cups he nods. “Aye, my good-brother is that and he is not even the type of the husband I would have chosen for my sister, but, he treats my sister and her girl well. He makes her happy. That’s all I could ask for.” The silver-haired man ends and Jon is rather ashamed at his own previous thoughts about Stannis.

The Lord Commander interjected as he saw Jon approaching. “That’s more than enough of that. Ah, my lord Hand, come sit with us. As you can tell, we are celebrating. Arthur is to be an uncle.”

He takes a seat next to Ser Gerold and accepts the proffered wine. He does not speak to Sers Arthur or Oswell all that much what with their being so much younger than him, but, the Lord Commander is something of a friend and it would be rude to not at least join them for a bit. “Ah, thank you; yes, I know. Congratulations, Ser Arthur.” The man accepts this with a nod of the head and a “Thank you.” 

Still, that does not stop the three of them from looking at him confusedly. He wonders at it before coming to the conclusion that it is because they are drunk and his admission that he already knows about what they were celebrating.

“I received a letter from Storm’s End also; from Lord Stannis, who was kind enough to write to me.” Ser Arthur nods in response and follows that action by looking pointedly at Ser Oswell who rolls his eyes. 

Ser Gerold prompts, slightly “Oh?” The thoughts on the other man’s face are evident. That Stannis Baratheon wrote to anyone is unexpected in this quarter as well.

Jon feeling slightly embarrassed replies simply, “Yes.” He finishes with a shrug; not wanting to discuss the matter future. He is rather ashamed that he had been thinking uncharitably about Stannis. The other three do not ask for an elaboration; but, by the looks they share, it is clear to him they attribute the actions of Stannis to his having some residual duty towards Robert and he finds himself self-conscious again and it is not only because his previous thoughts. 

Ser Oswell with a drunken laugh interrupts his reverie when he says, “Ah, well, it seems Lord Stannis and Lady Ashara are happy at the news, but, Arthur, that doesn’t explain why you act as it you who just received word about your own child.”

The knight shook his head. “My brother has no child yet. With my sister, I never got the chance to celebrate the birth of her daughter.” For a moment Jon thought the knight tried to avoid his eyes and he does not have to wonder at the reason why. However, that moment passed and the other man looked rather wistful for a moment before becoming elated once again. “My niece and future nieces and nephews are the closest I will come to having children of my own. Why would I not want more?” Though it was only for a brief moment there was a faint air of sadness to the other man’s words.

For a moment Jon feels discomfited watching as the other two knights nodded sagely. He flushes slightly and it has nothing to do with the drink in his hands. While it was a noble choice these men made to join the Kingsguard, they sacrificed the idea of a chance at family for themselves. He had chosen to marry and have a child; he should be able be thankful for that without being morose about not being completely fortunate in all areas of life. 

His thoughts are broken when Ser Oswell rumbles out another laugh, “And I suppose it is for the best that your sister’s husband is more serious and your brother has to be, because you get the chance to be the dashing uncle.”

They all laugh at that before Ser Gerold turns to him, “And you, my lord Hand, I believe you it is not that long until you yourself are to be a father?”

He nods and smiles a bit, “Aye, that is so.” Even if the state of his marriage is not ideal he can look forward to being a father. 

“Anxious?”

“Yes.” 

Ser Gerold smiles at him. “I am sure it will pass when the time comes.”

Jon wishes he could believe him.

“Have you chosen potential names for the child, yet?” 

He frowns. He has not; he had hoped Lysa would tell him she wanted to choose the name, but, Lysa had not told him if she has thought of possible names, either. Perhaps he should ask her. “No; there is still some time left.” He is thankful the Lord Commander does not press him further and instead pours him some more wine. 

He sits for a while longer; until he deems it time to retire to his chambers and he takes his leave. When he returns to the Tower of the Hand, he only sees guards on duty in the hallway containing his and Lysa’s chambers. On a whim he asks the guard on duty if his wife’s ladies have left her. Because the guard answers in the affirmative he is certain Lysa is asleep; he finds himself somewhat disappointed, but, he accepts it. It was a late hour.

When he reaches his own chambers he is resolved to speak to his wife in the morning. Thinking of Stannis’ letter and Arthur’s approach to the news he is reminded again of what the King had told him, “You could at least say you tried”. He can wish for happiness all he likes, but, happiness would evade him if all he did was to give in to worry, jealousy, and bitterness. He is better than that; others deserved better than that from him.


	18. Chapter 18

Rhaegar wakes and blinks to adjust to the near absence of sunlight in his rooms. He frowns at the realization the space beside him is empty knowing it had not been when he had closed his eyes. When he hears noise outside his bedroom he smiles slightly, knowing that it was Elia outside; but, his smile slipped all the same.

He knew Elia woke early frequently; with their respective responsibilities, it was, if not expected, something that became a natural course of things. Though he never thought much of it, it was not an unusual thing for him to have missed her waking whenever she had slept in his rooms. As far as he was certain, she had not demonstrated any negative sentiment or reluctance about sleeping in these rooms or being with him and so he refrained from remarking on it. It was rather curious, all the same. He shook his head as he rose from the bed and put on some clothing; in the end, such thoughts were rather foolish.

When he did make his way out of the bedroom he found Elia sitting in the outer chamber with a plate of fruit in front of her, sipping something listening to whatever the handmaiden had been nattering on about until the handmaiden stopped mid-word when she saw him. Nothing about that tells him very little about what either of them was doing this early nor does it explain the handmaiden’s reaction to him. The handmaiden blurts out a greeting and with a short bow towards him follows with a very quickly spoken “May I take your leave, now, Your Grace”. It was and it was almost instantly after Elia gives her a jerky nod the lady practically flees the room. If he was not befuddled before, he certainly was now. 

Elia was halfway out of her chair when he holds up his hand to stop her. There was no need for her to stand on formality with him; yet, it seems her manners will not allow for a lack of decorum at the table; even if it was intended to be a table set for just the two of them; even when the table was not even set. That the handmaiden acted oddly likely did not help matters. If he was the type to smile at such things he would have. Instead he ignores it in favor of going to kiss her cheek. Elia only smiles faintly, in return.

Before he can say anything Elia speaks, a rather tense edge to her voice, “Ah, I hope we did not disturb you…”

He peers at her as she trails off. He almost frowns at the way she was not looking directly at him. It had been some time that she reacted to him with hesitance; however, to him it seemed she also looked very pale. At first, he merely thought it was the result of the light, or rather, current lack of much of it, but, he is close enough to her to see the frown marring her face. He also sees how the tight grip she has on the cup she is holding is. He sees how white her knuckles from the effort. 

Though it was a far rarer thing he worried about he begins to think that perhaps she might have taken ill; but, he dismisses it. She had not been unwell last night and he does not think some illness suddenly took her, but, this was odd. A different, if equally unwelcome type of worry creeps into his mind and he begins to wonder if their coupling had been too passionate, but, he remembered their activities, though enthusiastic, had not been overly aggressive. He dismisses the thought; that could not have been the reason for whatever this was. 

“No, you did not. However, I was taken aback it.” He hopes that will prompt her to tell him about whatever it was that disturbs her.

Her distracted answer of, “I see”, tells him very little. She looks away again, before she prompts him with a question, “Shall I go arrange some breakfast?” His incredulity grew as did his apprehension at the way she was she was trying to distract him; but, she would have known it would have been a fruitless endeavor. No matter how much he knew she did not want him to be concerned, if there was something to be concerned about, he would be. 

“Leave it for now; just with me for a while.” He keeps his voice level. He does not want to unduly rush her and instead motions towards the plate of fruit in front of her and she pushes it towards him. She will tell him of whatever ails her soon enough.

With a smile he takes an orange and decides to broach another subject. “Will you be joining me in today’s audiences?” More often than not, she was there for them. Elia had also taken to sitting in council with him. With Lord Arryn being distant with him, and most others who would spend much of their time deferring to him or scheming to enhance their own aims, it was rather enjoyable having her near, even when it seemed they shared many of the same opinions. Though he had his Hand, if there ever was a need for him to leave King’s Landing again; of course, as the chief lady of the realm, she should know about its affairs. 

She shakes her head and he finds himself disappointed. Disappointment starts to become concern at her mournful expression. His concern only increases when she replies, “Not for the entirety of the morning. Lady Lysa finally has accepted my invitation to visit the Sept.” 

They share a look even as an uncomfortable silence grows between them. He had known this was something Elia had not necessarily celebrated but thought it to be important. Rhaegar knew that the pair of them got on well enough, however, the lady had become even more withdrawn to the point where not only had she refrained from venturing outside of the Red Keep, Rhaegar was certain had seen her only a handful of times since the loss of the child. 

Even without knowledge of the lady’s obvious state of mourning, the air of grief and loss was just as thick around Lord Arryn. No one could blame him, but, the man would not speak about it. At any rate, it was only recently that the Hand willingly had rejoined in meals at the Great Hall and not only when the occasions required his presence. 

Lord Arryn was not receptive to much from him aside from the perfunctory condolences. Even if Lord Arryn had not been such a proud man, encouragement about future children from a man who the realm had saw as being unsatisfied with having two children, even though that was not the extent of his motivations, was not going to be welcome to a man who deeply desired, but, was unable, for now, just to have one. Rhaegar could not find fault in it and did not try to, either. Still, he thought it was a good thing the lady accepted Elia’s overture at last.

“Very well. Have Ser Brynden escort you both.” That the other man was the lady’s family and Elia liked the older man well enough worked in their favor. The knight had been affected by the news, as he rightly should, but, he had always been a dutiful sort and that had not changed even in light of the tragedy which befell his niece. Rhaegar admired him for it.

“Yes, I think she would like that.” Elia smiled. It was not an easy smile, but, he knew that her unease came from what befell the Arryns, not his suggestion.

She looks at him before taking a sip of what she was drinking and makes a face he knows he is unused to seeing on her visage.

He peers at her curiously. “What is that you are drinking?” She had been at the table before him; however, nowhere was he seeing any of the tea she was fond of drinking in the morning, or for that matter, a proper breakfast. Whatever she is drinking, it did not seem to have excessively negative effects for her; even if she did so with the distaste and the apprehension she was displaying. Of course, if there was something untoward or dangerous about the drink she would not still be drinking it. 

When she does not answer immediately he starts to worry more, but, before he could ask further, she sighs in resignation and looks away before answering him. “It is Moon Tea.”

The only thing he can manage is, “You have begun to take it, then.”

Even though one rarely thinks about the possibility, let alone at length, Rhaegar knew there are very few acceptable responses to what his wife just said other than that. 

Despite Elia’s clear unease, she asks him, “Will you not say anything more?” 

In truth, there is very little for him to say. Though he had never seen her drink it before and he would never have required this of her, he does not have to wonder at her taking such a step nor does intend to fight her on it. He takes her hand. Though she looks very uncomfortable and while he does feels her hand slight shaking, she does not pull away. 

He has no reason to ask too much more nor is he particularly surprised by it. He knows why women take such things and he knew the reasons Elia should. Even without the situation with the Arryn’s or Elia knowing both her good-sister and closest friend are with child, respectively, if the Maesters’ warnings delivered towards them soon after Aegon’s birth were still clear in his mind, they would be in hers. That he and Elia have started to share each other’s chambers more frequently only made such warnings more potent. Who better than Elia would know the dangers of her having to give birth again?

Still, she is correct, there are questions he wants to ask; though, by her expression he can see she would not know what sort of questions he would ask of her. “I take it you have been imbibing it frequently enough?”

Her hand sharply twitches in his, obviously taken aback by his acceptance; and he fights back a frown because of it. She takes a breath and manages to say, “Yes, I thought it best not to leave such things to chance.” 

He is dismayed at the guilt lacing her tone or the uncomfortable and apologetic expression, but, neither that nor her response was surprising. Taking Moon Tea was not something that was discussed in but the faintest of whispers; if it was discussed at all, even between a husband and wife. Of course he knew full well the last time they spoke of the risk to her health when it came to birthing children, he decided the two Elia gave him were not enough for him and they both knew the results stemming from that decision.

“Yes, of course.” 

Elia takes a breath and looks away before softly saying, “You do not object.” The words fall from her lips in a strange mix of shock and apprehension. 

The only thing he finds odd is that he is the one being questioned on why he is not the one doing the questioning. For now, he decided to reply simply. “No.” 

She stares at him; her expression indicated she was more perplexed than anything. “Why not?” He reads her thoughts easily; others would question her decision on this, and that she took this step without consulting him. He fights the urge to sigh. More than anyone else, she should know he is not like most others. Though they had not spoken of this exactly, he knew the necessity of it. Why would he not accept this?

“May I speak plainly?”

She presses her lips together and after a moment, “Yes. I would like that.” Despite the words, there is no eagerness in her tone; not that he expected any.

“I am relieved you are taking it.”

He wonders if he should have said that differently when her face twists into a disturbing display of alarm. 

Rhaegar finds that most of those he knew refrain from acknowledging that one could be faced with the idea that one can either have the child or they can have the mother. Even if the loss of the Arryn’s child was not newly on his mind, which it was, he is far too familiar with the grim thought than he had ever hoped to be. He is aware that while loves his sister very much, his dearest mother died in the childbed and that was just the latest calamity of that sort he has known. 

In the face of her incomprehension, he elaborates, “There is no need for you not to take Moon Tea.”

She purses her lips and takes a breath and looks away. “What exactly do you mean there is ‘no need not to’?”

He frowns; now, it is he who does not understand her. “Having another child could be dangerous for you. It is a risk I see no need in taking.”

“Having another child could be dangerous for you. It is a risk I see no need in taking.” 

He meant his answer to be reassuring but, recognizes he failed spectacularly when Elia only frowned deeply as she turns away from him. “What is it?”

He waits and it is not long before he is rewarded with her eyes looking directly into his. “You said that you have no objection to this because of the risk birthing another child can have to my health.” She says the words slowly, deliberately; questioning him.

“Yes. That is what I am saying.”

She takes what Rhaegar is dismayed to recognize is a fortifying breath. He also feels the tensing of her hand he has yet to let go. Though her chin lifts slightly, her voice is uneven when she asks, “Would you still be so obliging if the nursery had not contained three of your children?”

He closes his eyes and has to turn away; inwardly wincing. He wants to be horrified would ask such a thing, but, he _knows_ it is a fair question. He _had_ wanted three children, needed them, taken steps to have them, and had been blessed with them. What he can no longer afford to do is ignoring the consequences of seeing that dream of his realized or that those blessings came at a cost. He risked Elia’s life twice before and it had not been far too long after Aegon’s birth when he flatly told her of his need for another child, quite thoroughly forgot himself with her. But, like with most everything else, he got his way and it had cost him Lyanna who died a lonely, bloody death in the middle of the Dornish desert. His Jon had been born and as grateful as he was now he remembered he had not always been because Jon was not what he expected. 

Before, it was thoughts of what will come which plagued him and they still do; but, now he finds it is also what had come which plagues him just as much. He had Lyanna for his own and no matter what anyone could tell him, her death is on his hands. His youngest child lost his mother in the child-bed. His siblings lost their mother in the same way. By the time he had realized he should have been grateful for what he had, too much blood flowed from far too many. If such a thing can be prevented, he will not allow Elia to be lost to him and to them; not now. 

“Yes. You are done; I am done.” 

She tilts her head and he wonders if she will say something more or if he even wants her to. In the end, she does ask him, “What changed?” 

His eyes narrow in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘What changed’?”

She swallows. “Why are you done with fathering children without me now, when, before, you were not?” 

Despite everything the question brings forth, with Elia now, he hears curiosity and some resignation; though he is sure with anyone else he was sure he would have heard accusations. It does not make hearing the question any easier; even though he knew the question was a sensible, if predominantly unexplored, one. Rhaegar knew that if others felt they could ask him such things freely, Elia would not be the only one asking him such things; however, unlike with others, he owes Elia an answer in the same way he knows he will owe them to his children. 

He takes a breath. “I almost lost you to the child bed once. I lost my mother the same way. You have been as good as a mother to Jon as you have with Rhaenys and Aegon, but, his mother died in the childbed, as well…” 

Rhaegar takes a breath as he sees Elia consider his words as he trails off. Elia does not become angry at the mention of Lyanna, but, there is still hurt in her eyes he knows will never completely be erased which he cannot fault her for. They do not speak of the past or Lyanna very often, however, at times such as these, it would be a great disservice to try to avoid it or try to disregard the need. He could only continue, “I cannot and will not lose you, now, and not to the child-bed; not for anything or anyone else.” He hopes she hears what else he cannot bring himself to say and it is a relief when she nods and he feels her grip on his hand tighten. 

It is some time before either of them speaks again and he only does so when he sees her take another sip with a grimace. “Who else knows?”

She starts at the question, but, sighs knowing what he refers to. “Oberyn knows; I have not spoken to Doran; but, I know him well too well. You saw my handmaiden. The Grandmaester knows, but, if Pycelle knows our Master of Coin will eventually come to know or perhaps already does. It is not ideal, but, going elsewhere carries its own concerns. As far as I am aware, none of them has told anyone else; much less to anyone who would be surprised.” 

The resigned sounding answer is not entirely unexpected. Her brothers, however they may detest him, would want to ensure she has the best they can provide. Rhaegar is grimly aware Oberyn studied with the intent to forge some Maester’s links and has experience with certain potions. The handmaiden would not have fled as she had if she was ignorant of this. He briefly considers writing to Oldtown about arranging for a new Grandmaester, before dismissing the idea, yet again. It would be more trouble than it is worth to dismiss Pycelle and the man, for his faults, seems to know his craft. Lord Tywin had been the subject of unkind talk, himself, after the death of Lady Joanna and the birth of his youngest son and was no rumormonger. He knew his court and that Elia’s health had been a well-worn subject for years. 

Elia asks the next question. “You are not angry that I kept this from you?” While he would have liked that she just told him, one hardly speaks about such things willingly. He also knows others had not so quietly whispered about the effect childbirth had on her and how some of the whispers increased because of his actions. 

He shakes his head firmly and he is relieved some of tense atmosphere which surrounded them seemed to be decreasing. Not all of it does and he responds with, “No, not at all; however, I would rather you did not try to sneak about in the mornings, regardless of the reason.” They should have no reason to by shy with one another, no matter what had transpired between them. 

She is almost shocked at his perhaps too flippant response and though he would never usually be this blunt, that habit of hers had been distractingly perplexing. Now that he knows the reason for it, it does not make it any less so. Waking alone when he knew he had not started that way bothered him more than the idea of Elia doing this. There was a perfectly discernable reason for her taking the concoction; not for waking up at abominable hours to do so. 

He knows some of her unease remains and so he voices another concern he had, “Have you found that it makes you ill?”

He considers it a near victory when she, rather than seeming nervous, answers the question gamely, “Not particularly. I have not found it to cause any unusual effects aside…” 

He nods watches her take her final sip and she does so, again with a grimace he wonders at. “Does it taste awful?”

She sighs, “Even with-” She stops and takes a breath before she starts again, “I would not take it willingly without reason.” As he hoped, there is no sadness in her voice, but, she sounds almost put out about it and a laugh slips from him. 

Where, before, she was so painfully hesitant, now he wonders if his wife just might kick him. She does not, but, she does glare at him slightly while she puts the cup down and pours water for herself. “You would not be laughing if you had to drink this. No amount of sweetening it can save it, but, I suppose there had to be some disadvantages to taking it.” She shakes her head. It certainly was not an encouraged practice, but, Rhaegar knew better than to assume that no lady in King’s Landing took Moon Tea or similar creations for various purposes. 

He raises his arms in apology. “I should not have laughed.” He gets a hesitant smile in response.

Before a silence can fill the room she asks, “Is there something more you wish to ask me?” 

He considers, “Not about this.”

She coughed; looking slightly anxious. “Then about what?” He can see it in her face, ‘What else is there to speak about? Certainly they could not be done discussing this.’ He is done with it, however. His wife either takes Moon Tea or she does not and there is no reason for her not to. As for him, there is not any reason for him to desire she refrains from doing so. Even if she acted without his knowledge or blessing he had done the same about different things with far more far-reaching and disastrous consequences for more than just themselves and their family.

“What else will you be doing today, except the audiences and visiting the Sept?”

Anxiousness slips into an odd sort of bemusement. “Why do you ask?” He can see her thoughts again, ‘of all the things to ask, why bother with that?’

“Indulge my curiosity.” He was certain Elia, like him, was intending to fulfill the various duties required of her, however, he still wants to know and he is quite content to let that other matter rest. 

He ignores the curiosity-filled look she sends him before she speaks. “Lady Lysa and I will likely return late into the audiences. I intend to see to the refurbishments being made to the Maidenvault and other areas of the Holdfast. Following that, I will have my midday meal with the children at in the nursery, but, I think some time in the garden would be good for them. They have been rather restless of late. After, I also will have to see the Steward about the accounts; and, then the Cook. Then, some of the ladies will be joining me in sewing just before the night’s meal.” 

After she finishes she shrugs as if to say he should not be surprised at any of what she said and truthfully he is not. She looks at him once more as if to gauge his reaction before she asks, “What are your intensions for today, then?”

Rhaegar almost smiles. Even if Elia does not seem quite certain the other matter is ended as he says, which for him it is unless they absolutely must revisit it, she is visibly more at ease.

“After the audiences, Lord Arryn and I will decide which petitions I will hear tomorrow. Then I mean to ride out into the city to see the Captain of the City Watch about the recent incidents in Flee Bottom and the Street of Silk. Then I must meet with the Captain of the Royal Fleet about those modifications Lord Tyrell pushed for. Lord Tywin has been hinting he wants another word with my about the kingdom’s finances. Following that, I have an engagement with the Arthur in the practice yards. It seems ‘I have been neglecting my swordsmanship’.” He ends with a sigh, but, not only because he knows most anyone else do not consider the last item on his list an obligation or a chore.

Her eyebrow’s rise in what Rhaegar is sure is amused shock and he is almost relieved because of it. “All those meetings and swordplay? I do not envy you.” 

He nearly groans at her visible interest of the final item on his agenda. “Do not look so enthused. That is Arthur’s idea.”

While he is relieved Elia’s mood is no longer melancholic because of their earlier discussion, now that she was clearly trying to stifle an uncharacteristic laugh forces him to glare. “What?” 

The quirk of her lips tells him she finds this far too humorous. “You are aware that you are the King and none of your knights should be able to force you to do anything you do not wish to do; not even Arthur.” 

He shakes his head, ruefully. “He seems to think I require an outlet from becoming too overwhelmed by the stresses of ‘my responsibilities’.” It was sound reasoning and while he was grateful to his friend, why he would suggest that, instead of something he knew Rhaegar does enjoy, he does not know; then again, what else was he to expect from a warrior?

Rather than say that, he stands as he ventures, “Speaking of things to come, would you mind if I joined you and the children midday? I think I need something to look forward to.” 

She too rises and leans in closer to him. “No, of course, I would not mind. You know that.” 

Rhaegar finds himself trying to control the smile forming on his face in response to the pleased look on Elia’s face. He settles for a simple, “Good.” 

It is then that Elia’s smile turns far too crafty, “Perhaps I can spare a few moments to watch as you practice.” 

That sends a jolt of something through him for reasons he is not entirely sure about. “Why would you want to do that?” 

Her amusement only increases. “Why would I not?” 

That only serves to raise his suspicions. “Why would you, unless you want to see Arthur trounce me?” He knows where his talents lie and who is far more skilled in such feats.

She smirks and though he knew this was not the time to think of such things, it eerily looks like an expression Oberyn would wear; that alone is worrying. “I would admit to no such thing.”

“That is not a denial.” He purses his lips. 

Her smirk softens into a genuine smile as she wraps her hands around his waist. “Arthur is not only a friend but a Dornishman, there is no reason for me not to support him on occasion, but, I support you most of all and most definitely on this.” 

Though that pleases him more than he would admit to, he still prompts, “Even though I am better at lances than swords.” 

She bites her lip as though she was trying not to laugh. “One can only improve if one tries to.” 

He smiles and places his hands so that he cradles the back of neck in his hands. “I think I should be offended, wife. That sort of endorsement is better directed towards someone Viserys’ age.”

She laughs softly, “Husband, I certainly do not mean to offend you and it certainly does not make what I said any less true. Still, you have bested Arthur before.” He coughs and looks away. Easily said, but, the last time he had bested Arthur in such things was at Harrenhal.  
Even though she likely knows this, given what they had just spoken about, he certainly was not going to remind Elia of the events of that tourney without needing to.

Instead, he says, “If you insist on being there, perhaps you would give me a favor. That might actually provide some inducement for me to actually best him.”

An eyebrow rises, “I was not aware you required such an inducement to want to do well and even if you did, favors are not usually given for efforts in practice.” She tells him that as if he does not know, but, he finds himself compelled to ask her for one, all the same.

“And?”

“Would not my giving you my favor for a practice would look rather ludicrous?” Though there is a distinct lack of refusal, Rhaegar senses there was a reason she asked this, but, he does not mind at all.

“There is nothing ludicrous about what the king requests of his queen or what a husband asks of a wife.” It is not much of an answer, but, it was the truth.

She put on quite a show of musing over the thought, eventually saying, “That is rather a rather odd way of looking at things.” 

He gazes at her curiously. “One would suspect you should have grown accustomed to my, as you put it, ‘odd way of looking at things’, by now.”

She huffs out a laugh. “No matter how much time one spends with one of you, I do not think anyone could quite completely understand the way a Targaryen looks at things.” There is a very welcome amused sort of acceptance in her tone.

He tries to fight the twitch of his lips. “You say that as if you are not a Targaryen at all.”

She whispers, “I am a Targaryen, am I?” 

In turn, he whispers, “You are my wife, are you not? What else would that make you?” Another smile is sent his way before he continues, “However, if you would rather not accept that and are still less than inclined to give me your favor then you should give me a kiss.” Rhaegar is usually not this bold and while he does shock himself because of it, at her expression, he finds himself not wanting to take the words back. 

His boldness is returned in kind when Elia shifts even more closely and he hears her soft voice in his ear, “Those kisses, like favors, are earned, Your Grace.” 

It is his turn to raise an eyebrow. “And do you not think besting a knight of great renown should be enough to earn one?” 

The both of them know this has very little to do with Arthur or swordplay, but, Elia smiles wryly all the same. “That is very presumptuous of you.”

He nods his acceptance of that fact. “Perhaps so, but, you will give me that kiss.” If he did make a habit of lying to himself, he would have voiced something about reminding his Kingsguard or her to not make presumptions about his skill set; but, he does not lie to himself and Elia would not have believed it, either.

Before he can say anything more, her lips are on his. When they pull apart, she steps back. “It is getting quite late, I think. I will see about a getting you proper breakfast, now.”

She barely has enough time to take a step back before he clasps her hand in his and looks at her questioningly. “I thought you said kisses were earned.”

Her lips quirk upwards, “Would you still want a kiss from me, even if it was not earned?”

He frowns slightly. What sort of question was that? “Yes. Yes, I would.” He hopes she hears the ‘You should know that’ in his response. 

A fond look he does not quite currently understand the reason for is sent his way. “Then why question it?” Why indeed? 

Still, he was, if nothing else, persistent. “I should like to know how exactly I earned a kiss.”

“Perhaps you did not and I just wanted to give you a kiss.” He starts to think the earlier part of their conversation makes more sense to him than whatever this was.

“But, why give a kiss at all, if you are the one to say that kisses are earned?”

One of her eyebrow rises. “What makes you think you have not?”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “As far as I know, I have done nothing.”

This time she kisses his cheek. “But, haven’t you?”

When she leaves the room after giving him one more smile he wonders if Elia’s way of looking at things might be odder than some might suspect his own to be; or at least, he does until his eyes take in the sight empty cup still on the table.

* * *

When Rhaegar prepares to leave the Great Hall, he sees Elia in the far end of the gallery; but, she was not alone. Where weeks ago he would have seen Viserys standing besides Elia, instead, it was their daughter who was starting to become every bit Elia’s shadow. It had been interesting seeing the varied reaction of his Small Council when they caught sight of his eldest sitting next to Elia at one meeting. Before he can form a smile at the memory of that he takes note of Elia’s other shadows; Ser Brynden and his niece and wife to his Hand, Lady Lysa.

He had been expecting the other woman’s presence, but, looking towards the gallery he could clearly see others had not. It was natural that Elia and Rhaenys would be given a wide berth; but, it has been some time since that it is not his family which is the object of interest to the stream of courtiers now filtering out of the gallery and for a moment Rhaegar is unsure whether this time it was something he would have preferred. He locks eyes with Elia and he can see disapproval in the way she stands and he does not have to glance very far away from his wife to understand why. Rhaegar did not usually bother with trying to decipher the meaning of other’s expressions, but, those few who remained in the Throne Room did not attempt to disguise the way they look towards the Lady Arryn. Taking in the sight of her, Rhaegar remembers this morning and the times Elia had presented herself for court after the birth of both of their children; only the lady’s youth was much more evident due to lady’s much more poorly concealed discomfort.

Rhaegar quickly looks elsewhere before someone could take note of where his attention was. One look towards his stern faced Hand showed Rhaegar that he was not expecting his wife’s presence either and while that should surprise him; but, it does not. In fact, the only one who does not betray any feelings is Ser Gerold who is standing at the base of the steps leading up to the Iron Throne. When he looks to Lord Arryn again, it did not take long for Rhaegar to recognize the other man was equally less than pleased at the looks being directed towards his wife; however, Rhaegar knows better than to mention it to the man.

What he does get from the man is a sound somewhere between a cough and a sigh before the man speaks, “Your Grace?”

“Yes, Lord Arryn.”

The other man’s reluctance almost seemed to grow in the silence which stretched between them. 

“Jon?” It was not his way to use the man’s name in public; however, for a man he admired greatly, it was just as well he would have the exception this once, even if the hall was not emptying steadily.

He could almost see his Hand trying to come to grips with himself. Rhaegar knows that is a sight, no matter how many times in recent memory he has seen it, he thinks he will never get accustomed to seeing. He does not want to get accustomed to it.

The older man looks once again towards where their wives are waiting next to one another. “Your Grace, I would not ordinarily ask this and this would more than likely come at an inopportune time.-”

Rhaegar takes a breath at the hesitant stumble of words. “Jon, what do you need?” 

The man was not looking in his direction; he was looking towards his anxious looking wife. “I would request some time for my lady-wife and I to go to the Eyrie.”

Rhaegar does not have to think about the answer. “Yes, of course.”

His Hand nodded; almost embarrassedly. “Thank you, yes, a change of…” 

His Hand almost frowns at the almost immediate, “Yes”, which spilled from his lips and Rhaegar barely restrains himself from apologizing like an errant child. He had not meant to be so brusque, but, Rhaegar had been considering making this very same suggestion to Lord Arryn for some time, but, he had not known how to broach the subject without doing in such a way which would result in some sort of offence. He is relieved the other man approached him about it. 

It was no secret to him that the Arryn’s relationship was not one with much contentment; even though most knew the birth of the child was welcomed by both. Rhaegar also had been privy to the knowledge that the Arryns were venturing to the Eyrie after the birth of the child. He grimly suspected this was hardly going to improve the marriage, but, at least leaving for the Vale now would give the Arryns a chance to mourn their loss in privacy. Such things could hardly be said to be done easily no matter how ideal the location, but, it would be better for the Arryns to be at the Eyrie, among their own people rather than the denizens of King’s Landing.

“Your Grace, do know that I would not usually like to leave you without someone to take my place as Hand of the King; however…” His Hand looks past them and Rhaegar, even without looking, knows the man is staring at his wife again.

Rhaegar coughs to regain his Hand’s attention, “‘However’ what, Jon?” 

Lord Arryn comes back to himself; flushing slightly. “I know it is not ideal to leave my responsibilities here, but, I have been away from the Vale for longer than I intended and Lady Arryn expressed a desire to go to the Eyrie.” Though Rhaegar should be happy the man was cognizant of his duties, he almost sighs at the response. His Hand was a proud man, and Rhaegar knew for the older to admit that something was not well would not be easy for the man to admit. Rhaegar knew the sentiment; there were very few who he would choose to keep his confidences and he was not one to easily admit his failures; but, wanting to go home was hardly something to be embarrassed about.

Rather than travel that path with the man, he replies simply, “Yes, of course. I appreciate your duty to your responsibilities here, but, you have a duty to the people of the Vale just as much, if not more. King’s Landing will be here when you return and there will be just enough responsibility remaining.” 

Rhaegar straightens slightly seeing how the other man was staring at him as if he said something odd. He ignored it, instead, asking, “When do you intend to take your leave?”

The other man frowns. “Within the time of a moon’s turn, I think.”

Rhaegar nods in agreement and for some reason Lord Arryn frowns more deeply, clearly wanting to say something more. 

“Yes, Jon?”

“Your Grace, who will…” The other man looks deeply troubled as he trails off. 

Rhaegar frowns. He knows what his Hand intended to ask and he knows he will have to find someone to fill the position, but, it must be something he considers carefully. It is a grim thought, but, he knew upon hearing this, if he does not make a choice for himself and soon, when Lord Arryn’s intent to leave is discovered, the remaining members of the Small Council would have their own suggestions. 

Of course, while being named the Hand of the King was added onto a person’s responsibilities, it was an honor; but, who would accept an honor on a temporary basis? Rhaegar does not know who else he would think was appropriate for the position? He knows he does not want another Hand; but, he sees the need to let Lord Arryn go for a while. Rhaegar knows a man with such dedication to duty and who is honorable such as Lord Arryn is not a man who is replaced easily, if at all; but, also he knows leaving King’s Landing for a certain amount of time would be good for the pair. 

He takes a breath. “We can discuss someone who will fill the role of Hand until your return at a later time.” Looking at Lord Arryn, he hopes the other man knows that he does not want to replace him; but, that is the best answer he can give his Hand; one that will give him time to think. 

The other man goes to speak, to object; but, the other man visibly deflates and Rhaegar is relieved when the other man nods, “Of course, Your Grace.”

Rhaegar knows the other man only accepted his answer because their wives and Rhaenys were not but a few feet away from them. He will not say he is entirely ungrateful for that when he stands to greet them. 

He takes the hand Elia extends to him with a smile, before looking to Lady Arryn with an expression he hoped was encouraging. He considers it something of a success when he gets an uneasy smile in return before the lady curtsies slightly and moves to stand her husband after a glance at Elia who smiles at the other woman with what Rhaegar believes is reassurance.

While the others exchange pleasantries, Rhaegar bends to pick Rhaenys up who graces him with an embrace, a kiss, and a recital of some of her brothers’ recent antics which she apparently found less than amusing. 

It was not very long before his daughter demanded to be set down because she dislikes the way most of his attention is directed to where the Arryns are speaking together in low tones. If the curiously almost pleased look on Lady Arryn’s face is any indication, his Hand must have informed his wife of the discussion they had. 

He leans in to whisper in Elia’s ear, “I think you should know the Hand is leaving King’s Landing in a moon’s turn and I must begin thinking to find a temporary replacement.”

Elia turns into him slightly, but, her glance is thoughtful when she looks towards the Arryns as well. As Rhaegar expected, there was no surprise in her gaze. Of course, the Arryns had been intending to leave for the Eyrie, but, just not in these circumstances. “While I will be sad to see them go, I think that would be wise. Still, I am sure you will find someone worthy for the duration of the Arryn’s absence.” 

Before he could speak the Arryns rejoin them to make their excuses. Seeing that, with one gentle pull on Elia’s hand and a tilt of the head towards the pair of Kingsguard, they follow the Arryns out of the Throne Room. As Rhaegar walks he observes his Hand and his lady. They seemed, not lighter, but, more at ease as they walked, in step with one another, but, not touching one another. Rhaegar did not know if they would ever be happy with one another, but, he knew, at least, their leaving would serve them well.

He looks towards Elia and takes her hand again. “Not I; we.” She raises an eyebrow. In the face of her slight confusion, he elaborates, “I would need to find a replacement to present to the rest of the Council soon and I would like some suggestions you would consider first.”

Elia turns towards him fully; examining him silently, as to determine his motivations for asking this of her. “Certainly you must have some idea of who you would see in the office without my opinion.” 

He frowns. Why she would think he would not take her opinion on this when he had on matters of council before? “I do, but, I should like to discuss them with you.” He studies his wife as she tilts her head while looking at him for something and he blanches slightly as he thinks aloud, “You would not suggest your brother, would you?” 

Elia barely refrains from giving him a snort and a knowing look. “Hardly. I do not think Oberyn would leave Dorne while my good-sister is still with child, even temporarily’; perhaps not even if that was not something he had to think about.” Rhaegar does not bother acknowledging his relief at that or the stress she put on her brother’s name before she presses herself as close to him as she would dare in public. She whispers, “The way you two get on, I would think that would be less than productive.” 

Anyone he could ask knows the truth behind those words. Rhaegar grouses, “That, wife, is an understatement of the highest order; but, I still would like you to think of some possibilities before the Small Council gets wind of this.”

Elia nods. “‘We’, it must be, then.” Rhaegar smiles.

* * *

The idea of just sitting with his wife and taking in the sight of his children together playing is a welcome one, but, one that Rhaegar never knew would be something he would have come to enjoy; after all he was not one for much idleness, and more of then not, his previous occupations, and his current duties did not allow for it. He became acutely aware of that when he recognized the familiar shape walking towards him and he feels whatever joviality there is in him slip away for reasons he does not quite know. 

He stands to take the proffered envelopes from the boy who minds Pycelle’s ravens and he tries not to flinch when he remembers the foreboding adage, ‘Dark wings, dark words’. 

He knows the handwriting on both envelopes and so he keeps one and hands the other to Elia. Staring at the one in his hand he barely registers how she calls for Rhaenys or sees the other children toddling behind his eldest and the nurses who trail behind them. 

He tries not to frown as he reads through the letter in his hands. The words are brief and familiar, as is the writing, but, that does little to soothe him as his occupied fist clenches around the letter. Though he suspects he is the only one who hears it, the crinkle of the parchment is harsh in his ear.

He has to take a breath and forces himself to turn to where Rhaenys gesticulates wildly at her two younger brothers and her even younger aunt. He suspects all of them only understand just some of what is being said, but, they seem enthralled by it, all the same. Elia, a very indulgent Ser Gerold, and the children’s various nurses seem to be enjoying the sight of it, at any rate. Rhaegar tries to shape his lips into something of a smile when as he registers the word, “Viserys” which spilled from his Rhaenys’ delighted lips.

He sits down, closer to Elia than he had been sitting and taps her on the shoulder. “What is this about Viserys? Is he well?” 

She turns and lacing her fingers through the ones of his free hand and he finds that calms him somewhat. She explains, “The letter came from the Water Gardens. By the sounds of it, he seems to be enjoying himself thoroughly.” Elia looks almost wistful and Rhaegar remembers how much Elia had been fond of the place in her youth. The weight of the letters still in his hands, as innocent as the words contained in the missive are, serves as a terrible reminder of how different his own youth was.

He takes a breath, “Did Viserys pen it himself?”

Elia laughs and answers in the affirmative. Before Viserys had left Rhaegar had admonished his brother to write to him and his younger brother had done his duty. Exactly two letters had been addressed to him since Viserys left King’s Landing, one when Viserys arrived at Oldtown and another when he arrived at Sunspear; no more than that. If it had not been for Ser Jaime’s brief missives which addressed Viserys’ health and any mischief he got into, he would have had little knowledge of what Viserys was doing save for whatever Elia’s brothers’ wrote to her about or what he could glean from the letters filled with childish things, addressed to his daughter, which incidentally arrived weekly, without fail. 

Rhaenys, displaying an eagerness to share in the experience much as possible decided she was going to attempt to learn her own letters so that she could to write to her uncle in her own hand. Rhaegar fights the frown on his lips remembering Pycelle’s rather irritating suggestion that perhaps a Septa ought to be arranged for his eldest as she was showing an interest in such things. Rhaegar remembers arguing that his daughter was not nearly old enough to begin a proper education; after all, being able to write one’s name did not a letter make. The older man only offered some platitudes about watching children grow being difficult for any father. Rhaegar said nothing about the man’s eagerness with Viserys that he had not shown with Rhaenys, but, he knew the other man could not have any conceivable understanding of the depths of Rhaegar’s concerns. With the letter in his hands he has to acknowledges, at least to himself, how those concerns are once again at the forefront of his mind, whether or not he wanted them to be.

He wishes he could smile back knowing the cause of Elia’s levity, but, he only manages to look rueful and he has no need to disabuse his wife of the true reasons for it.

He closes his eyes and breaths deeply, trying to prevent his mind follow that path. Looking at the concerned look on Elia’s face he ventures, “And just how well is my brother doing?” 

Elia frowns, but, he is grateful she refrains, at least in public, from outright demanding answers he does not quite want to deliver or know how. Still, her voice falters slightly. “Apparently the elder two of my nieces tell him his abilities with a spear are coming along nicely.” She looks at him as though she does not know if this would improve his mood or not and somehow he thinks his heart is lighter for it.

He lets out a shaky laugh. “Of course, what else?” He thinks he would much rather hear about his brother’s misadventures than dwell his thoughts even though he knows that is a fool’s errand. 

Elia shifts closer to him and he forces himself to become less tense as she continues, “He is debating what he wants for his nameday present.”

That surprises him and he looks between his wife and his daughter who now looks at him with an all too serious expression he does not like. “And what exactly does Viserys expect that I can give him?”

Before Elia can even form the words their daughter pipes up with, “He wants a Sand Steed or a “Valr’an steel sword.” A harsh laugh, far harsher than he intended, bubbles from him and not only because his daughter’s mangling of the word, ‘Valyrian”. 

He knew he and his brother are fundamentally different in personality and for all that he thinks of Viserys’ oddities, the both of them share their family’s interest in their Valyrian heritage. Not for the first time does he almost regrets it, even though Viserys’ interest was still relegated to history and weaponry. If anything he hopes his brother’s interests do not mirror his. Of course, the other gift his brother would want makes him think of a different, if lesser, sort of worry. 

“How exactly would he know he even wants a Dornish Sand Steed?” 

With the way Elia bit her lip, it is then he knew his question was a foolish one and so he answered it aloud himself. “Someone let him ride one and has taken to it well.”

He sighs. “Does that letter say who let my brother get on a Dornish Sand Steed? And why has Ser Jaime allowed it or not inform me about this?” Despite what anyone else may think Ser Jaime was not sent along to be Viserys’ playmate. The knight was responsible for Viserys and should have been able to keep his brother off of horses meant for skilled riders. Rhaegar knew the man not shy about speaking his mind if required and he wonders, briefly, if the other man encouraged it. 

Elia’s lips twitch as if she finds his reaction humorous, but, when she looks at him she schools her features into as serious as an expression she could manage. “I do not think Ser Jaime had much of a choice in the matter.” 

He nearly frowns at the unacceptable, if somewhat predictable answer; but, that she ended with a shrug tells him that any clarification would be just as unsatisfactory to him. He also knows Elia’s brothers certainly would encourage his brother in such things.

Attempting to put aside his growing ire, he manages, “What makes you say that?”

In a mix of exasperation and humor, she shakes her head. “I believe the particular horse in question belongs to my good-sister, Cersei. Apparently, the horse did not take well to not getting put through its paces it had before she became too heavy with child too do so. The other children already ride and you know how Viserys is. I suppose they found no reason to deny him if such a mount was made available in the duration of his stay in Dorne.”

Elia’s intuition had been correct in that he would not found the answer to his liking anymore than he likes being proven correct about how well Cersei Lannister would take to Dornish ways. However, there was nothing he could say now that he was in no position to actually stop Viserys from riding those quick horses without writing to Dorne in objection. He harbors no delusions on that score; the result would be would be some combination of his brother’s sulking and the Dornish taking offence at his rejection of their ‘hospitality’, as if they needed a reason.

While he suspects his reactions are being tested from a distance, he could not help his next question, “I see. Does the letter also say that he’s been given her weapons to practice with as well?” 

Even if she looks apologetic, Elia laughs fully. “No, if my good-sister had any weapons they would be fashioned just for her; however, it would not surprise me at all if Viserys was encouraged to bring a well-used spear back with him when he returns.” Rhaegar could only narrow his eyes as he senses the truth of the words. He briefly wonders if it would be worth the effort to fight anyone on this. 

Evidently, even his daughter understood his less than enthused reaction about these developments and prompts him with her own question, “No horse? Viserys gets the sword?” His two sons, even if Rhaegar knows they do not quite comprehend the conversation, look at him with as much interest as they could muster. It is no relief to him when Daenerys just grins toothily at him.

He sighs. “I do not know, Rhaenys.” 

Rhaegar thinks it is a strange sight to see his daughter frown at him and so he adjusts his response to, “Papa will pick his gift later.” What he does not say is that he ought to deny his brother either of those two proposed gifts. Ser Gerold, who had been listening in and making no effort to hide it, looked amused while Elia looked torn between laughter and sympathy, but, at least Rhaenys is mollified and for a moment he is contented. 

That moment passes when Elia asks him about the letter he had momentarily forgotten about and he looks at it and frowns. 

“It is from the Wall. They are requesting more recruits and Maester Aemon is asking after the children.” He ends with what he thinks is an even and measured response and a light enough smile before turns away to look forward, hoping to deflect attention from him and the letter. He knows he is unsuccessful when he sees the worried expression on Elia’s face as she surreptitiously looks between him and the letter. She says nothing, leaving it for now, and he is grateful for it, but, this newfound ambivalence to a letter from a member of his own family he respected where there used to be very little of it before would be far too unusual to go unremarked upon.

In truth, the letter dictated for Maester Aemon had contained a plea from the Lord Commander for new recruits to be sent to the Wall, which Rhaegar had expected and will address appropriately. It, for reasons he does not think he would be able to articulate, was the benign query about his family which caused him unease. Looking at his children who returned to their play, Rhaegar could feel putting ink to a letter and sending it back to Maester Aemon will prove difficult for him. The letter from the eldest of his family reminds him of things best left forgotten, though he knows the thought to be a foolish one. 

Before, the ravens flew fast and frequently between them with Rhaegar being an eager participant in those exchanges. How could they not when what the older man proved to be such a wealth of information which was of great interest to him? His great-grandsire’s brother was one of, if not, the wisest man Rhaegar knew and there were not very many who truly sympathized or, for that matter, understood, the necessities which fueled much of what Rhaegar was and did. Before his father truly went mad; before having met Elia, before Lyanna; before the war; before everything, the older man’s letters had been such a boon, but, not now. 

Many used to speak of his fascination with Summerhall with a sort of bemusement, but, now he sees his children and thinks he learned far too late what the tragedy of Summerhall should have taught him. Even if the relationship between the Stormlands and himself was absolutely repaired finds he does not even wanting to think of that place which gripped his attention so. What could he write and what fond memories of his children could he recount knowing that the fascination which held captive his family so tightly will be their burden and it was him who caused that burden by meddling where he should have not?

As sure as he is the older man would want to hear about his family, Rhaegar knows the older man well enough to know that his brother’s descendants’ mundane activities could hardly be the man’s primary concern. The Maester had always been so kind, but, if he did write that letter, would the older man’s response be filled with pity where he would try to console him about finally realizing the price of making the choices he had or would he demand Rhaegar sacrifice his children for the future of the realm, even if it was to their detriment? 

That prophecy demanded much from those of his blood and those of his blood had given to its demands even though it caused very little but grief for them. His father and mother were tied to one another because of it and his father destroyed them both and nearly destroyed the realm. He, himself became a warrior for it. Though he was successful once, how could he count it a victory when victory came in the form of fields bathed in blood and resulted in the mistrust of men, as unvoiced as it is, where he could have taken their loyalty as his due? He kept little from Elia about it, but, she had not believed as he had and his own actions only soured her to such things.

He knew his own birth, youth, and many of his decisions were driven by prophecy; even the way he used to see his children. His children are young now, but, when they grow they would wonder why he had done the things he had and the way he had done them. What answers would he give them? 

But, what if he was wrong? He, himself, had come to various, distinct conclusions about the meanings of what he read as time passed and circumstances changed. What if who came before had been just as wrong? What could be said of them, of him, except that they misspent their time and effort for something that was not to be?

Looking at his children at their play now, can he say he even wants to be proven correct about the prophecy? What sort of man would want that for his children? What sort of joy or awe would they have when they learn that, in part, they owed their existence to words written on pieces of parchment written long ago and because of it they were required to become instruments of fate to face some potential unknown threat? 

The only thing Rhaegar is sure of is that before he was certain, now he dreads.


	19. Chapter 19

“He has arrived.” Rhaegar braces his hands on Elia’s shoulders. “Shall we go?” 

Smoothing a hand over her gown one final time, Elia stands while Rhaegar extended his arm to her.

As they make their way through the halls, Rhaegar thinks, ‘It will not be long now’. He hopes this goes well. He needs this to go well. Elia glances towards Ser Oswell who was following at a respectful distance before leaning in to whisper, “What is the matter?”

Rhaegar considers the question. There should be no reason for this apprehension he feels, but, he feels it, regardless. He had always ignored what others used to call his melancholic state, but, it seems now he cannot. He also finds he cannot change it. “When we were youths, I know Jon enjoyed being in King’s Landing.” He and Elia share a brief smile before the smile slips and his face settles into a grim expression. “He left here so abruptly and he has not been back since just after the coronation. I just hope he does not wish to alter his plans. It was not as though he enjoyed the position or volunteered the last time.” It was true; his father had all but forced Jon to take the role Rhaegar wants him to take up again. Despite their friendship, Jon had not spoken to him much about his experiences though Rhaegar knew from various accounts, including Elia’s, about how insultingly, at the least, his father dismissed him. He was too ashamed of himself to pester Jon about it when Jon did not speak of that time.

Elia frowns. “‘You hope?’ I do not think he would refuse you, much less when he already accepted. He is not the type to do such a thing without good reason. He has always been devoted to you. I do not think he would refuse you this and it is not as though the circumstances are similar.” Despite her words her expression grows dark at the last statement. Before he can say anything, she takes a breath and in the next moment her face is smooth once more. 

“I know.” Rhaegar sighs. Even though he was not here for much of it and they do not speak of it, he does know what transpired here. But, thinking of the past only serves as a greater reminder that Jon is not free from tainted memories of King’s Landing before, during, and after the war; none of them are. Furthermore, Rhaegar is firmly aware that Jon is capable of denying him when he sets his mind to it, even when Jon knows Rhaegar will not force him into doing what he does not wish. “The last time I asked something of him he refused.” Jon, Rhaegar remembered, laughed in his face. It is doubtful he would do so again, but, the possibility of refusal was there and Elia knew it.

Alarmingly, Elia’s hand shakes in his and her slight shoulders start twitching while Rhaegar’s eyes narrow at her clear effort to not laugh while they were in public, as if what he says was something to laugh at. “What? Elia?” He purses his lips when her shoulders shake even harder though she bites her lip to control herself. “It is nothing to laugh about.”

She bites her lip even harder and presses closer to him; he can feel her shaking with unspent energy next to him. It takes her some effort before she forces sound to come out of her mouth, but, while she whispers the laughter in her voice was clear. “Yes, at least this time you will not be seeking to get him married. I think he will love you all the more for that.”

Rhaegar looks at her, disgruntled. After the failure the first time he vowed never, he was sure Jon shared his sentiment, to revisit that unpleasant experience ever again. As young as they are, if it was not the fact that he was a father to children at all, he would hope to never revisit such a thing with anyone ever again. “I remember and it was your friend I was trying to convince him to marry and all it proved was that Jon can be quite adamant in his refusals when he wants to be.” In his periphery he can see Ser Oswell’s amused look even though Rhaegar was sure neither his nor Elia’s voice had carried.

Even as he grumbles, a laugh escapes Elia’s mouth. “I am sure Ashara will be elated to know that she is now only ‘my’ friend instead of ‘ours’. Still, if Ashara’s letters are anything to glean information from, it worked out quite well for her.” She lets out a snicker. “So long as we do not throw unmarried ladies at him without his knowledge or desire, I doubt he would refuse you much of anything else and not this. Unless you think he will because it is only temporary?” Now her levity is gone and she looks somewhat apprehensive. “He knows it is temporary, does he not?” The question of “is it temporary?” he hears clearly.

He liked Jon Arryn as much as Elia did, more even, therefore he had expressed to Jon, barring certain complications Rhaegar was firm in this being a temporary arrangement. If Jon refused, that, at least, would not be the sticking point. “It is and he knows it.”

With a calm countenance one more, Elia shrugs and says simply, “Then there is nothing to be concerned about.” 

He admits, “Jon is the only one I could think of for this.” Elia nodded again, knowing that for truth. They discussed the matter at length and they both knew that Jon was one of the few who they could trust with the position. Rhaegar continues, “I suppose if he is here than that has to mean something.” Elia just squeezes his hand. 

As if trying to reassure himself of the potential success for this plan, he says, “Jon would not have come if he did not want to.” He fails when he could not help his next question almost immediately, “Who else was there?”

A silent tightening of Elia’s lips tells him she had nothing to say to that; there was nothing anyone could say to it. Even though he sought out the eldest Jon’s and Elia’s council, this Jon was the only person he could trust with something this important. Rhaegar knew he could not trust just anyone in King’s Landing with this particular office, even temporarily. He knew that if he decided to go without appointing a Hand of the King, even for the smallest while, others would think he was engaging in some form of heresy or perhaps giving into what they believed to be his madness once more. That would not be the truth, yet, he could not afford such whispers to follow him.

Jon was his choice; his only choice. After Elia and Arthur, there were not that many people he could trust. However, neither Elia nor Arthur will ever be available to him in that capacity. Ser Willem Darry was loyal, but, ill suited to the role and he would not have wanted it even if asked. Unlike his predecessors, Rhaegar also had no close kin who could be given the mantle immediately. But, he did not believe that he was the type of man who would give positions to family simply because they were family. If he had been and perhaps had Viserys been years older that could have served, albeit with some grumbling from others, no doubt; but, his brother was still a boy and Rhaegar wishes his brother stay the boy he was. More and more, he wants that for all of his children.

Of his father’s former Hands, aside from Jon, only two others still lived: Tywin Lannister and Owen Merryweather. Rhaegar would not approach either man for this. Merryweather was far too old and Rhaegar knew the man proved decidedly incapable when he held the position; not that his father let the man hold it for very long. The Lannister lord was already on his council and Rhaegar knew better than to think that he could be made Hand again without Lord Tywin broadly hinting that it become a more permanent arrangement. He certainly was not about to let that come to pass. Jon, short as his tenure was, had the benefit of, at least, having served in this capacity. 

His council had approved, but, Rhaegar knew they were rather surprised that Jon was already on his way to King’s Landing and so it made discussing potential candidates moot. Grimly, he thinks that some of his council, if they wanted or worked at it, would have tried to find more of a problem with this choice of his, too. He saw the looks on their faces when he announced Lord Arryn would be leaving the capitol. Had he not swiftly informed them of Jon’s acquiescence, he was sure one if not all of them would have jumped at the idea of providing the name of some bannerman or relative of theirs who would be “quite suited” to the position, “for the duration of Lord Arryn’s intended absence”. He certainly did not want anyone else for the position. He thought he was free from being concerned when his announcement provided only a minimum amount of fuss with the rest of the council, but, it seemed that was not in his nature.

He remembered being only slightly relieved when he and Elia discussed Jon and what Rhaegar said he would argue if Jon proved reluctant.

_"If he argues I can tell him the absolute truth. I not only want him to do this, I need him to do this. He is one of the few I trust easily.” He takes a breath, not knowing if he should mention his other thoughts on the subject. He decides he should tell her. His thoughts, without acting on them, and these he certainly will not, can do no harm. “The only other two others I can think of who would be absolutely truthful with me and would not want the position permanently basis are Oberyn and Stannis Baratheon.” He smiles awkwardly, knowing that while others might have no reservations about asking one’s distant kin or kin of his wife’s, he would do just about anything to avoid the indignity of choosing either of those men._

_He had not said this to her before for precisely the same reason Elia nearly sputters in shock. His willingly choosing Oberyn or Lord Stannis for anything is preposterous. Under any other circumstances choosing either other man was not without merit on the face of it; but, with them, for him, there were other circumstances. While the Lord of Storm’s End’s sense of duty could be appealed to and Oberyn would accept as a favor to Elia, Rhaegar cringed at the idea of having either man here once more. Rhaegar knew if it came to it, either might accept, but, Lord Baratheon would do so great reluctance and Oberyn would do so knowing Rhaegar would have to be desperate to approach him. Of course, there may very well be threats to his person from their wives, if he approached either man with the idea._

_Elia just sighs, “I suppose the threat of that would awaken Jon’s pity or cause him to believe such a possibility too horrific enough for him to want to stay.”_

Rhaegar grimaces once more, remembering his response was, “If that is what keeps him here…”

* * *

Rhaegar felt his worry slip away when, upon seeing them, Jon embraces him warmly, kisses Elia’s hand in the same way he used to, and nodded politely in Ser Oswell’s direction. 

As they make their way back to the Red Keep Rhaegar begins, “Jon, it pleases me to see you.”

Jon’s smile was bright. “No less than it pleases me, Your Grace.”

He feels the tension in his spine receding. Rhaegar smiles brightly return, “We have known each other for far too long for me to have to tell you that my name is Rhaegar and I would rather you use it.” On Rhaegar’s other side Elia’s lips twitch and Rhaegar smothers another smile. No matter how many times Rhaegar could tell Jon to use his name, he never could convince Jon to use anything but his title. 

Seeing their reactions, even as he does let out a smile, Jon nearly goes as red as his hair. “It seems that you must remind me once again.”

As they walk, Rhaegar continues, “Still, I am honored, I am pleased you accepted the office. I thank you for it, after all, this is not a matter of days and it may or may not be a matter of a few weeks. I hope I am not unduly keeping you from remaining at home if that was your wish or keeping you from your other responsibilities?”

Jon looks at him, a stern look forming on his face, and Rhaegar thinks he might have made a mistake in saying anything at all. He cannot help but worry, but, causing others to worry because of him is nothing he desires. Jon’s tone is calm but Rhaegar can see the slight hurt and disapproval in Jon’s eyes. “Griffin’s Roost can be without me for however long you need. My cousin more than is capable of acting as Castellan.” Jon begins to frown, “I promised I would be here and so I am. Is something the matter? Has Lord Arryn said something about adjusting his plans or has there been grumbling on the Small Council? Has something else changed?” Rhaegar’s shoulders tense once more, hearing the unspoken ‘Have you changed your mind?’

Rhaegar holds up a hand, “Forgive me for my musings. No, nothing has changed you are to be my Hand, you are to be my Hand until however long the Arryns intend to stay away.”

He is relieved when Jon simply nods, seemingly mollified. “I should see Lord Arryn soon, yes? Does he wish to see me immediately?” 

Jon Arryn was not a man who enjoys idleness and his deep-seated sense honor would not allow for dereliction of his responsibilities. No amount of convincing on Rhaegar’s part would result in the eldest Jon in his company’s not acting as Hand until the date of his departure. 

Rhaegar could only shake his head, “There is no need yet. Lord Arryn is intent on filling his responsibilities until his last day here and I respect him far too much tell him to do otherwise. He does look forward to seeing you, but, I think it can keep for tonight at least.” To be fair, Rhaegar did not exactly try to change the man’s mind.

While Rhaegar almost smiled at Jon’s nonplussed reaction, he is thankful his friend decided not to press him. “I see, well, I suppose I should commend Lord Arryn on his dedication and hope that I serve only half as well as he seems to be doing” 

Rhaegar did smile then, “Come now, you will. Now, did you wish to get to your rooms to rest, eat, or would you like to see the children?”

Jon hesitates, “The children must have grown so much in the time I was away”. He sounds so wistful and for a moment Rhaegar think he was too hasty in writing off Jon as a perennial bachelor. Surely, Jon would want to have a family of his own. 

That despondent thought does not stop pride from coloring Rhaegar’s voice, “Yes, they have. They will be excited to see you.”

Catching his eye Jon’s smile returns, “Is that right?” Jon continues, “I suppose Princess Rhaenys is well on her way to becoming a lady and Prince Aegon must be running now. And Prince Jon?” His friends tone adds in an eagerness which resonated well with Rhaegar though his pleasure at that was tempered by Jon sneaking a look at Elia; the one that he regrettably knows Elia is familiar with, even from those who should be close to them.

Elia smiles blandly, “If I just relied on what the nurses tell me, I would think that is all they do.”

Ser Oswell, having been assigned to watch the children earlier in the week, snorts and Jon’s face betrays a flare of shock before becoming smooth before he glances back in his direction. “I am not surprised they would be so spirited. Are they usually well behaved or do they get into all sorts of mischief?” There is a faint smile on Jon’s face now, as if attempting to remember himself around that age though his expression tells Rhaegar exactly what sort of answer he would prefer.

Despite Rhaegar’s placid reassurance of, “No, my children do not”, the innocuous statement forces him to think of that letter from Uncle Aemon which he still not found a true response for. His manners and affection for his ‘uncle’ would not allow him to refrain from sending a response to his queries, yet, the one he did send, with respect to his children, could be said to be non-committal at best. 

He closes his eyes for a moment remembering not to give into fear. Still, he imagines that even if his fears related to the prophesy do not come to pass, and he hopes his fears remain completely unrealized, his children, by virtue of who they were, would not be free from all troubles and he was no fool to think otherwise. 

He is almost grateful when Elia’s laugh stops his thoughts from traveling further in a direction he would rather keep away from. While her look is fond, she says, “I think that is a lie all mothers and fathers tell themselves.” 

Jon counters, with something of a challenge in his tone, “And Her Grace believes she does not tell herself the same lie?”

Elia laughs, “I did not say I do not.” 

Jon huffs out a breath, almost put out, even as he rolls his eyes and Ser Oswell’s face continues to betray his mirth even when Elia continues, “Even if I was not, my children are much too young to get into mischief.” She turns towards Ser Oswell, “Is that not right?”

While Rhaegar registers the knight’s good-natured response of “Quite so, Your Grace”, Rhaegar keeps his eyes trained on Jon when he quirked an eyebrow at Elia at the way her thoughts of ‘my children’ does not exclude his youngest son. Despite the warmth Rhaegar feels because of Elia’s sentiments, it was nothing new to him. Still, even if he had no darker worry of his children’s future, the idea of his children growing and getting into mischief is something he would have dreaded. However, he could only agree with the sentiment; his children were well behaved. If only if he could say the same about his brother. “Of course, even they were not well behaved, Viserys causes more than the other four combined. I do not believe such a thing will change.” 

Jon looks at him, moderately confused and greatly surprised at that particular response, “Oh?”

Remembering the latest antics of his brother, Rhaegar could only sigh. “Yes. If my children or my sister grow into anything like Viserys I fear my hair will turn gray from silver far more quickly than I hope.” He can see the amused look Ser Oswell and Elia share; the both of them having known Ser Jaime caught Oberyn’s eldest daughter and Viserys trying to cajole one of the guards in Sunspear into procuring a double-curved bow so his brother could bring it back with him. Rhaegar supposed it had been his fault when, instead of a horse or a sword, he simply sent him a rare manuscript about weaponry as his nameday gift. 

His friend looks at him hesitatingly, “Prince Viserys has been giving you trouble?” At the grim tone and the even more grim expression, Rhaegar knows what Jon is referring to and Rhaegar does not know if he wants to snap at his friend in disgust for even thinking such things about his brother or cringe in horror at the prospect.

Though the children were at too tender of an age to show much of what they will be like when they grow let alone demonstrate tendencies towards madness, most of the realm whispered of the sort of troubles some members of his family were capable of causing. Even if he despaired of it and caused him many difficult nights no matter what he wished, he knew he could not ignore the possibility. His father had been a kind man once and it was his own folly that he left the matter of his father’s state far too late. His own actions were not seen as severe, yet, Rhaegar knows he gave others reason enough to think no differently of him, even if it had been for a small while. 

Even if his fears about the prophecy are not realized and he wishes more and more they are not, he fears his brother, sister, and his children may be afflicted with the same madness. For now, however, he sees nothing that makes him think any of the children are affected. He cannot say he prays for it never to happen, but, he hopes.

“Nothing of that sort.” At Rhaegar’s firm tone Jon looks embarrassed and uncomfortable, but, he does seem relieved. Though Rhaegar was sure he saw disapproval Elia and Ser Oswell on their faces at Jon’s question, now they schooled their expressions into something neutral. He continues, gamely, “He goes from acting older than his age and younger in one moment from the next. At times he wanted nothing more than to go play and at others he wanted to be involved in council business and when he returns you should hear him talk the way he jumps around from subject to subject. His letters to me are no different, when he decides to send me one.” 

Rhaegar thinks if how changeable Viserys could be remains the extent of his brother’s oddities, he would consider Viserys and himself fortunate. 

They are disrupted from speaking when they enter nursery. After greetings between Jon, Ser Lucas, and Arthur are exchanged, Rhaegar introduces Jon to the children. Rhaegar could only smile at the way the children are entranced with him because of his, albeit not so new, presence. Rhaegar sees his expression mirrored on Elia’s face when Jon, sweeping a look over all of them individually, declares them ‘charming’ in the way that denotes truth, but not excessive interest.

It is not long after that Jon begins looking around obviously not seeing the subject of their previous conversation asks, “Prince Viserys is not here, then?”

“He is in Dorne”. The prompt and cheerful reply from his daughter, who, it seemed, did remember Jon and seemed enthusiastic about it. Rhaegar could only shake his head at the way his daughter’s cheerful countenance turns artfully penitent when seeing the falsely stern looks she gets from both Elia and Ser Lucas at her outburst. 

Jon blinks at Rhaenys who grins at him. He comes back to his senses enough to look between him and Elia to finally repeat, “Prince Viserys is in Dorne?”

The “why” Jon leaves unasked; but, Rhaegar does hear it. Elia clearly heard it too, but, stays silent and so he answers, “Though he went to Oldtown and Highgarden first; yes, my brother is still in Dorne.” 

Eyebrows still raised, Jon asks hesitatingly, “How did that come about? Have you decided to foster him there?”

Rhaegar almost blanches and Elia smiles, but, her eyes laugh the most. He certainly had not thought to do so, nor does he desire it; not for Viserys or, in the future, his sons, either. “No, I will not foster my brother out. Still, there is no reason he should not see some of the world before his education becomes more rigorous.” Remembering he had all but tried every objection he could to stop his brother from going initially, he firmly fails to acknowledge the quick twitch of Elia’s lips. He coughs, determinedly, once again, returning his gaze to Jon. “While they were here made friends with the eldest of Lord Tyrell’s boys and got on well with Elia’s eldest nieces. He travelled to the Reach with the Tyrell’s and he went to Dorne from there. Ser Jaime is with him. They are to remain in Dorne for now.”

After responding to his Uncle Aemon’s letter and receiving another one, despite a desire flaring within him to have all of his family about him, Rhaegar refrained from sending for his brother; but, only just. Not wanting to disappoint his brother and knowing that Ser Jaime wanted to stay with his sister and given how prickly Oberyn would be until his lady-wife gave birth was that which stayed his hand. Grimly, Rhaegar thinks he had done enough to them to actively try and disappoint Viserys or Ser Jaime for that matter. 

Jon blinks. “Ah, well.” One more glance goes from his face to Elia’s. Jon speaks directly to him, his tone betraying ill-concealed dubiousness, “I take it he enjoys himself?”

Before he can answer Rhaenys decides to take a now wide-eyed Jon by the hand and begins regaling him with a litany of things Viserys and her cousins recently wrote to her about. Rhaegar decides never to mention the lack of disapproval on Elia’s face and the smirk on Arthur’s when Rhaenys, brazenly but with as serious an expression Rhaegar had ever seen, stated that the first trip she would take when she leaves King’s Landing would, in fact, be to Dorne. That both his sons and sister share the same uncomprehending smile at what they clearly believe is the prospect of a story and a new playmate causes Jon to go even more wide-eyed while he, himself, inwardly winces. 

Even though Jon, startled as he seemed, nodded along at the appropriate places, Rhaegar decides it best to extricate Jon soon after lest his friend reconsider remaining in King’s Landing for fear of being kept hostage by the children.

* * *

As he promised Rhaegar reacquainted both Hands of the King to one another just before the evening meal. While both men had met in King’s Landing previously, because of the admittedly less than auspicious circumstances, then Rhaegar had been apprehensive though both men had been amiable enough in public. Now, however, when they met there was no undercurrent of suspicion derived from being on opposite sides of the war or at least none Rhaegar could sense.

Once he left their company he went to join his wife at the High Table. A kiss to his wife’s cheek, “How was your afternoon?”

“Quite occupied” was the measured reply.

He huffs out a laugh, “I expect it would have been, wife, but, I meant to inquire if it was occupied with the usual things or more than that?”

“The children were more excitable after you left.” He fought the urge to grin at her not quite disgruntled tone. Rhaegar had considered the possibility, but, he had wanted to get Jon settled in once again and they got to talking about this and that.

“Is that why Rhaenys is not here?” When Viserys was in King’s Landing his brother would usually sup with them and Rhaenys followed suit on most days but Rhaegar did not see their daughter was here.

“It is quite late and she was the most excitable I have seen her in some time.” Her tone mirrored his mother’s so much that he wondered if his mother taught such a thing to Elia. 

Rhaegar follows Elia’s line of sight where it settles on Jon. Rhaegar takes a draught of the Dornish wine Elia favors. She laughs softly, “I fear Rhaenys has become quite taken with Jon.” It seems Elia could forgive some of their daughter’s lack of decorum because of what passed for her Dornish pride, but, not for very much else. However, a choked laugh bubbles up from his throat all the same. 

He could only scoff, frowning. “What a thing to say! They have met before.”

Elia smiles, this time, however, but was tinged in sadness, “The last time he was here both the children were much too young to be of any great interest to someone with the responsibilities he had. Even then it was only a few months he served as Hand before he too left. He arrived after the war, but, left so quickly after the Coronation at that.” Elia’s smile becomes brighter now but Rhaegar knew it to be more forced. “She never met anyone so nonplussed by her.”

Rhaegar, though he tries not to react, he hesitates at the reference to the war and the months after. Judging by her expression he knows Elia does not want to dwell on the subject either. With one look towards their topic of discussion he settles for a light response of, “Jon was in shock at her being so animated.” 

Though the weariness was still present in her eyes, Elia stifled a laugh. “I suppose it is because he is outside her usual audience.” Her smile diminishes once more, “I think she misses having the captive audience the likes of Viserys used to be.”

He frowns. “It will not be long before he returns.”

She sighs, “True.” 

As they quiet, they take in the sight of Lady Arryn entering the Hall on the arm of her uncle. She looked curious when she observed husband was speaking to Jon. Though Elia and she share a smile as she passes he refrains from commenting on that or the lady’s more frequent public appearances of late. It was not long after that she joined her husband that the woman begun to look relieved, if not happy. 

As the meal progressed, Rhaegar felt what passed for true relief at having Jon firmly welcomed back here that not even seeing the stern-faced Master of Coin deep in conversation with Maester Pycelle with both of them glancing frequently towards Jon from their location at one end of the Great Hall could threaten to deflate his mood. 

Elia takes a bite from the plate in front of her before speaking once more. “I received a letter from Ashara.”

He nodded, now mildly curious. “Oh? How does she fare?” 

She smiles. “She writes that she is well.”

Now his eyebrows are raised, “Just well? Nothing else?” He doubts that is the extent of their letters; it rarely is. For a moment he frowns remembering Aemon’s letter before he tries to, unsuccessfully, shake away the thought.

With a smile still on her face, the reply from Elia comes, “While she rather enjoys the idea of becoming a mother once again, Ashara writes she feels she has become as big as a barge.” 

Rhaegar, almost smiles, but, remembering his mother’s words on the subject and Elia’s own times with child, says only, “I do not doubt for one moment her perceptions are entirely untrue.” Elia smiles knowingly and so Rhaegar hurriedly asks, “What else does she say?”

Elia takes longer to answer this time and Rhaegar does not quite know why that would be until she whispers, “She tells me they have decided on possible names for the child.” 

When Elia pauses, despite himself, or because of himself, Rhaegar feels something of a weight settle in his stomach at the indirect mention of Stannis Baratheon. Elia looks at him, tone falsely light, “She says that if it is a boy child they would name him Steffon.” Rhaegar almost winces remembering Lord Stannis’ harangue, but, nothing shows, even if Elia looks at him worriedly. He does not think of Lord Stannis with much frequency, but, he remembers the man’s thoughts on subject on the death of his parents all too well. Still, he cannot say he did not expect this.

“And if it is to be a girl, ‘Cassana’?” He asks though he already knows the answer.

Elia nods, but, he sees the concern for him clouding her eyes.

As he returns his attention towards his plate, he says, “Good names”, in part to reassure her and partly as if to say the matter is settled for him, which it is. After all, they are good names; very appropriate ones. He could expect no different from Ashara or Stannis Baratheon. Ashara obviously had named her daughter and no doubt she wanted her husband to have his pick of names for his first child. Stannis Baratheon, as direct as he is and unconcerned about the opinions of others as the man could be, dearly loved his lord-father and lady-mother and he would have chosen names those names. Rhaegar could not and would not begrudge him that. Rhaegar also knew that it was not an indictment on him; if the man intended such a thing he could have chosen the name ‘Robert’. Rhaegar would not know if he could have blamed the man if he did that, either.

Still, it is with some difficulty that he continues, “Does she write anything else?” 

He sounds less than enthusiastic and judging by her expression Elia knows it but she answers, “She writes to me about the antics of the children. They seem just as anxious about this as she is. Lord Renly seems entranced by the idea.”

He manages a non-committal, “I see”; but, only just. 

Elia changes the subject, “How was most of your afternoon spent?”

“I spent much of it with Jon.” Elia nodded, expecting that answer.

Knowing it to be a lost cause to keep these thoughts at bay he also offers. “Uncle Aemon wrote again.”

This time, Elia looks up, blinking in some surprise. She had never met this uncle of his, after all Aemon went to the Wall years before he was born, yet, before it all went completely wrong they used to speak of him. When Rhaegar told her of his last letter she had been pleased saying that “it was kind of him to write”. That he would write once again so quickly after months between letters would make anyone as curious as Elia seemed to be. “Oh, what does he say?”

Rhaegar smiles though it does not reach his eyes. “It was not a very detailed letter; or a lengthy it one.” At the evasive answer Elia gives him a piercing look. He swallows some more wine, not for the first time, grateful Elia has access to some of Dorne’s strongest. He begins again, “He says the Wall is cold, but, no colder than usual. He discusses some of the recruits I sent up the last time. I think I should make an effort to make such a prospect more attractive.” He pauses, almost sighing. The last round of recruits mostly consisted of criminals and with less than a handful of younger noble sons with no prospect outside of the Night’s Watch. 

He takes a deep breath, when he continues, “Otherwise, he asks after the state of things here. He asks after me and you. He asks after the children.” Try as he might he could not help stop the worry from creeping into his voice at that. 

She looks at him for a moment before putting her fork down. She glances at him before sweeping her gaze about the hall to ensure no one was listening to them. She looks more than just uneasy. “Why does his asking after the children worry you so?”

He closes his eyes, not wanting to discuss this with Elia, knowing how she feels on the subject he does not quite want to discuss, but, keeping this from her would be a disservice.

“It usually would not, however…” He stalls does not know quite how to continue. 

He takes another breath and decides. “Not here.”

Her mouth is a grim line. “Yes, perhaps later.”

* * *

It was late when they returned from looking in on the children. Seeing them just made his concerns all the more potent. The worry rolling off of Elia had not helped matters; neither did his delaying things. The tenseness between them had only become worse when they withdrew to her rooms. 

“Why would you be so uneasy because he asks after the children?” A man of the Night’s Watch or not, Aemon asking after family is nothing he should be this hesitant about. On previous occasions it had been nothing he had been very hesitant about. 

“I do not think I can explain. It is just a feeling I have.” He had been wrong before; he desperately desires nothing more than to be wrong. 

“A feeling? I do not think just a feeling would cause…this sort of concern.” He nearly flinches at the suspicion and anxiety in her tone and expression. 

He agrees. “No, it is not.” He tells her. 

When he was done, in between uncertainty and fear there was a frustrated resignation in the way she looked at him and she sat he did not like. He expected anger; however, lack of fury makes nothing easier. Nor does the silence become less thick as they sit across one another. He said all he could say; it eased none of his burdens. He knew and had no expectation that telling her would.

When she does speak her expression is contemplative, but, it is a mask; he will not ask for her to show more. He already knows her and having her tell him will change little. Still, she says, “I do not know Aemon as you do. Does he share your fears?” What he knows is that Targaryens did believe and no matter how wrong he had been about himself, this terrible fate for his children could still come to pass. How could he not believe? He had believed strongly, once. That part of him still lives and will continue to do so no matter how much he could wish otherwise.

“I do not know.” While Aemon had proved insightful about the family history and dragon-lore and even the prophecy, there had never been enthusiasm in his letters; not about this or anything else. These last two letters from Aemon provided no further insight or overtly probing questions. There was no mention of any of that or Rhaegar’s previous interest at all. Rhaegar’s mind supplied that he had not asked Aemon, either. 

“You do not know? Has he has seen anything? Have you seen something?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but, he thinks he would have preferred if she screamed at him. He would prefer that to the desperation in her voice. 

He wants to be angry that she would like nothing better than to think of this; never discuss this again; that she would not believe or want to. He cannot be. Some part of him wants to be the same. But, telling her such a thing would do no good. That he still has these thoughts tells her enough.

“Not as such, no.” He had not pressed Aemon. He regrets not asking Aemon outright, but, he would despair at any answer Aemon would give him.

“I see.” The words are breathless and terse. Her jaw clenches and she looks away. She cared little for prophesies and the like; not many did. Of late, he had not gone looking for more proof; he kept away from all talk of it. After all, the last time he let it become a factor in his life, it only led to ruin; but, he acted and once done things cannot be undone. 

When she does speak again, she is slouched in her chair; looking the most tired he has seen her in a long while. “Then what are we to do?” 

Not for the first time does Rhaegar wish he had been a different sort of man. “I do not know why I cannot let the matter rest. You know I have read all the books I have access to and glanced over every document within my reach many times. I admit I misinterpreted things in the past…” She closes her eyes; looking just as pained as he feels. He swallows a mouthful of air, “After Viserys returns and things are once more satisfactorily settled at Court, I think I should go North to Aemon.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I apologize for the delay in updating, but, r.l. got in the way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and Happy Belated New Year.

Winterfell. It was an apt name for the place where it was said it even snows in summer. Rhaegar looks at the large keep surrounded by thick blankets of snow. It is beautiful, but, he could not help but think sight of Winterfell held a terrible sort of beauty. The sight of it, and any of the North, he could not enjoy. He doubts he would find anything about this voyage something to enjoy. 

Winterfell was a large, sprawling place, surrounded by great granite walls and a moat. It was far larger than the Red Keep, he mused. It was also old and extremely magnificent and Rhaegar found it to be entirely imposing. He supposed that was the purpose, but, for him it seemed as though this place contained little warmth. But, then, Rhaegar Targaryen was expecting little warmth from this place. The chilled air which enveloped him was another reminder he would be getting exactly that. Chilled air, he thought ruefully, did not encapsulate how cold he felt and it was not just the setting which this sense of unease. All of the North had been cold, but, the cold of Winterfell was something else entirely. 

Rhaegar took a breath to steady himself. He could not afford to give into weakness and fears no matter how easy it would be to succumb. 

His eyes took in the party he brought with him. It was not a large party, consisting of just Arthur, Ser Brynden, their squires, and a few carefully selected knights of his household. It was not so unusual for him to travel with only a few, but it was no secret he only counted a select few he amongst his closest friends. Aside from Elia, those who had the right to know of his movements accepted his given reasons and how he would not be taking that large of a party with him. It had been easy to remind most of when he used to make his formerly frequent trips to Summerhall he never chose to take many companions with him. Not many even wanted to come north, even if it was to accompany their king.

Of them those who came with him, Ser Brynden was the only one who did not make many comments with regards to the cold of the North; but, Rhaegar supposed the older man had seen enough of the world and cared more about seeing his niece and her family to fret about the weather. Rhaegar thought Arthur, a Dornishman born and bred, liked the cold less than he did. It still had not stopped him from coming though Arthur did not know his reasons for being here like Elia did. While Elia and the children remained in King’s Landing and the farther the distance he traveled he missed them more and more, Rhaegar was grateful for this friend’s presence at least.

Most of those who came with him, Arthur included, had only known he wanted to meet with Maester Aemon. They accepted he would want to see the eldest living member of his family rather easily. Only Elia knew the reason was more than just visiting one man or to see the Wall and she had been just as uneasy about his being here as she had the first time he discussed this with her. The closer this voyage became a reality and further from King’s Landing he traveled he started to share her feelings. However, if the older man knew or suspected something, anything, about his children, Rhaegar wanted to know whatever his wisdom could provide. He had to know, even if only to set his own mind at ease, or at least as much ease as he could manage. 

Even knowing this was to be no ordinary visit, Arthur along with the rest of his council had been alarmed at this destination. While Arthur did not question him much about his need to see his uncle who he never met, the closer they had gotten to Winterfell, his friend looked at him worriedly from time to time. Still, no one could deny Winterfell was the home of his youngest son’s family anymore than they could that Northmen could and would see it as a sign of disrespect if he did not meet with the Starks no matter what had transpired between them.

At that thought he closes his eyes. He cannot help but think of Lyanna now. Though Jon is not with him, thoughts of Lyanna come to Rhaegar far more easily now that he left King’s Landing. They had come more and more as he made his way North. Being in front of Winterfell, her home and where she is remains in death, he expected he would think of her. He had known it before he even left for King’s Landing and like before those thoughts of her weighed at him; he just felt them more keenly.

It was not ever easy for him to think of her and he doubted being here would make it any easier. He had thought himself prepared, but, now that he was at this place, he was not. For him, it would be more than uncomfortable, but, bypassing the seat of the Warden of the North and its family, one of the oldest families in the North, would be a slight no Northman, or anyone else, would ignore or let go unremarked upon. 

Before he can get to the Wall he would have to enter Winterfell. The closer he gets to the gates the more and more he tries to steel himself for it. The further he and his party traveled the more his party attracted curious looks. That a royal party made its way North was an unusual thing; not many of his predecessors did it, seeing little reason for it. It was no wonder there would be some curiosity. Receiving curious looks was better than overtly hostile ones. Idly, he wondered at it, but, as always he shook his head at those sorts of musings. Growing up as he had, he learned many placed importance on the rules of civility and being discreet about one’s internal sentiments outwardly. He had discounted such things and many paid the price for it. Now he was unsure of what reaction he would receive in Winterfell, even though he was expected and informed he was welcome.

In truth, he did not expect much warmth from the people of the North and he had little reason to think there would be anything to the contrary. Yet, he was passing through to his goal and so he would welcome whatever lack of hostility he and those who accompanied him were given. Whatever he deserved, the others did not. 

He straightens when the gates are thrown open.

* * *

Though he tries to tell himself once again not to be bothered with being here, it is impossible. He only stiffens further when he sees the Lord and Lady of Winterfell waiting for him in a too short distance away with some others clearly the service of this household. He knows full well the discomfort of his presence was not his alone. Lord Ned Stark would adhere to duty and give him civility though the thought fills Rhaegar with so little joy. It shamed him how foolish, far too foolish, he had been when it came to the Starks. But, he cannot afford to ignore his fears because this would be difficult for him. 

Rhaegar slides off of his horse and stepped towards the awaiting party. Those who joined him stood back to give Rhaegar the opportunity to speak to their hosts alone. 

It is well beyond strange Rhaegar muses, to stand silently before those who are his son’s family. It had been odd when he met just one of Jon’s uncles in the Red Keep after the war which pitched them on opposite sides just ended. That meeting was some time ago and he is keenly aware that unlike then this is not his place. Lord Stark looks older than Rhaegar remembered. Rhaegar’s mind supplies thoughts of how much duty and grief can wear on a person. 

It is Lord Ned who speaks first. “Your Grace, welcome to Winterfell”. Rhaegar thought it best to consider the brief speech as the other man’s way.

He returned, “My Lord Stark”. He gestured to himself and the rest of his party, “I wish to thank you for having us.” He hopes the other man also hears the, ‘Thank you for having me though I know it is more than difficult’ he cannot bring himself to say. 

Rhaegar tries not to flinch as Ned Stark’s face grows more severe, but, the man’s next words are no less polite. “Think nothing of it, Your Grace. I understand it is your intention to be with us for only a few days before you go to the Wall.” 

Though he tries not to feel dismay at the slight hope coloring the man’s words, Rhaegar nearly sighs in relief at the reply posed as not quite a question. Rhaegar was not surprised he received a less than warm greeting he received. He also received no false flattery, but, he was grateful he received no insult, veiled or otherwise. 

Accepting that response for what it was, he nodded, “Yes, it would not be proper for me to be away from the capitol for very long, but, as I said in my letters, I felt I should visit the Wall.”

Ned Stark nods crisply. Then he turned slightly to his wife, “Your Grace, you remember my lady-wife, Catelyn.”

“Of course.” He turned to Lady Catelyn, this time smiling slightly. “Lady Catelyn, it is lovely to see you again and in good health.” He kissed the hand she extended towards him. 

She asks, “Thank you, Your Grace. I hope the journey here was pleasant enough.” 

With the myriad of thoughts and possibilities of what this venture would hold taking a firm grasp of his mind well before he left King’s Landing the journey was anything but. He just says, “Yes, it was.”

The lady’s next question is, “I hope Her Grace is well?” 

This time his smile is less forced. He offers, “She is well. She sends her regards.” 

The woman smiles, “It is kind of her. I was sorry to hear she was not accompanying you.” The Starks had remained in King’s Landing for too short a time for Elia and Lady Stark to have formed something more than a cordial relationship. He supposed Lady Catelyn’s sentiments could have had something to do with Elia getting on well enough with her younger sister. 

At the look on Lord Stark’s face he weighs and chooses his next words carefully. “She could not bear to leave the children when they are far too young and far too many to travel this far of a distance. As it is, in my absence, I cannot leave the capitol without its queen.”

The lady looks as though she seemed to understand what he had not said. For Ned Stark, Elia’s presence would serve as a reminder that he had not had not done right by Lyanna. Elia had not asked to join him here and he had not voiced the possibility. Though she did not like it, she accepted his need to come north; but, Elia would not want to come to Winterfell. Rhaegar nearly grimaced, thinking of what choice words Doran and Oberyn would have for him if there had been a hint of his suggesting the idea. His being in Winterfell was well past uncomfortable. He certainly would not force Elia to come to where Lyanna lived and was raised and cause more. 

“Of course.” 

The next question the lady asks is, “How are the Princess and the Princes?” 

Catelyn Stark, formerly a Tully, was above all things a lady. As such, he was sure this was an innocuous question and from anyone else it would have been. Still, Rhaegar stilled at the question, seeing the way Ned Stark stands even more erect and the apologetic, uneasy glance the lady sent her husband after the words spilled from her lips. Once again, this just highlighted how this was not a usual circumstance and no matter how much one could try to ignore or mask it, all present were keenly aware of it. 

Rhaegar could not stop himself from letting out a solitary cough. He still makes sure to send letters about Jon’s progress, but, he still has to answer the question and the Starks deserve one. “They are likewise well. They are healthy and they are growing quite quickly.” Remembering his reasons for traveling this far north his mind cannot help but think they are growing far too quickly.

He caught himself shifting his gaze back at Lord Stark. To keep his mind away from thoughts related to his final goal he quickly asks a question of his own. “How is the little Lord, Robb, I believe, was it?” Though he notes Lord Stark’s absent nod, Rhaegar fought the urge to swallow remembering who exactly the child was named for; the man’s whose blood is on his hands. The war is not something he likes to think on much, but, Rhaegar knows all too well how it got to that point and how close it was for things to have gone differently. 

He blinks and turns back to Lady Stark in an effort to keep those thoughts at bay. The lady’s expression, where it had been nervous before, turns proud. “He is well, but, we have kept him inside. Perhaps you would see him later?” 

He forced himself to smile once more at the slight reprieve, “That would be lovely.” 

Rhaegar is at something of a loss when Lord Stark gestures to another dark haired, dark clothed figure. This individual was no longer a boy, yet, not quite a man grown; but, he was an individual with a thin, long face and Stark grey eyes. 

Though there was little need Ned Stark still stands on ceremony, “My younger brother, Benjen.” It shakes Rhaegar, seeing the youngest of the late Lord Rickard’s children once again. He had quite forgotten this Stark had been at Harrenhal, as well.

Younger, Ned Stark said. Rhaegar hears what the Lord of Winterfell does not say: ‘and now only brother’. Rhaegar flushes, painfully aware, as they all are that this was the only other living sibling Lord Ned has; the only other person born with the name of Stark living aside from himself and a child in the nursery born in the midst of war. 

While they were in the Tower, before they learned of what happened to Lords Rickard and Brandon, Lyanna used to speak of her family. Once they learned of war, they stopped speak about much of anything, let alone her brothers. Then, he left and when he returned she had died. 

Benjen Stark nods at him; his voice so formal and low when delivering his greeting. During their exchange, the young lord’s gaze is never focused directly at him and Rhaegar sees how uneasy the younger man is. Others might dismiss it as youth or the nervousness, but, Rhaegar suspected there was more to the younger man’s comportment than the usual reasons. Rhaegar remembers Lyanna saying she was close to this youngest brother of hers because of how they used to play together, even at swords. Benjen Stark would find no pleasure in his putting a voice to this and Rhaegar will not speak of such things. Being linked as they are and will remain because of his son gave him no right to speak of their sister after he failed her.

Rhaegar barely contains his sigh of relief when Ned Stark speaks again, gesturing to another solemn faced man, “My steward will show you to your chambers.” Now Lady Stark takes her leave of them to embrace her equally eager uncle while the rest of the congregated group disperses. 

Thickly, he manages, “Thank you.” He does not imagine the faint look of relief on Lord Stark’s face any more than he imagines a similar one on Arthur’s as his friend moves to join him. Benjen Stark, Rhaegar notices, shows no sign of relief. 

Even as he is led away, with Arthur following beside him, Rhaegar knows there are eyes upon him. He just is not certain which of the Stark brothers the gaze belongs to.

* * *

Even without being anxious about what he may learn from Aemon, before he can even get to the Wall he must first finish this visit to the Starks. It was far too easy to feel disquieted just by being in proximity to his son’s other family again. The feeling intensified every time he went to sup with them. Almost every night seemed to require a feast in his honor and all that went with it. He saw Lady Catelyn’s hand in the arrangements and so could not complain how each time the meals were no less formal than those affairs in King’s Landing and elsewhere in the South he had been accustomed to. Still, it was just as, if not more, unsettling to be at the table with the Starks than any other feasts he attended. 

Tonight, as with the other nights, he was seated at raised dais of the High Table, next to Lady Stark with her husband seated at the center of the table on the lady’s other side. Despite everything which led to it, the role of Lord of Winterfell suits Ned Stark well. He has seen and heard more than once how capable the man was. He cannot bring himself to tell the other man that, because he is, in part, responsible for it. From anyone else Ned Stark might actually appreciate the sentiment; from him it would seem like a cruel jape.

It was his father who killed the elder of the two Starks, but, Rhaegar knows all too well that neither Lord Rickard nor Brandon would have ever ventured south had it not been for his actions. Even if his reception was not filled with enmity some, even he, would say he deserves, Rhaegar recognizes the stiffness in the other man when he is concerned. Ned Stark spoke to him agreeably enough, but, there was always that uncomfortable hesitance in their exchanges though to Rhaegar it seemed they only shared a few words at the few instances they were required to interact. 

Benjen Stark was seated on his brother’s other side. As Rhaegar came to expect, he spent the majority of the evening sitting quietly, speaking only when asked a direct question; rarely looking up from his plate. Rhaegar would have forgotten the younger man was even there had it not been for the occasional glances which accompanied the not quite frowns leveled in his direction. The same nervousness coupled with something Rhaegar could not identify he felt emanating from the lad that first morning was still present and they did not speak with any regularity. Rhaegar knew better than to think that there would be any difference in that no matter how much time he spent in Winterfell. He remembers hearing the adage, “there must always be a Stark in Winterfell” before. During the war, Rhaegar knew, Lord Benjen had been that Stark. 

As far as Rhaegar knew the lad had no official role in Winterfell, and yet it had been Ned Stark, with an undercurrent of anger laced worry who once said, “I am grateful for what assistance in Winterfell’s affairs his presence provides.” Then, the lad’s cheeks had colored brightly even though Rhaegar remembered nodding silently. As with anything Ned Stark said, he felt there was deeper meaning to the words, but, when it came to his reactions in the Starks affairs he could not find the desire in him to question things further. That cold is kin to Northmen he heard often enough; but, he caused this, he must accept it. He knows when he returns from the Wall, they will be forced to go through this process once more. Rhaegar is almost grateful knowing that he will likely not return to Winterfell again after that.

He had been at meals in Lord Ned and Lady Catelyn’s presence before, more than once, as a point of fact; but, those had been in King’s Landing and they had never been seated near one another. Even when trying to regain some semblance of normalcy in King’s Landing, darker memories of the past never seemed to leave him. Being here made nothing easier when his mind continuously supplied images of Lyanna, both the lively, adventurous girl she had been before they learned of war and the angry and sad woman after they learned of it; the images of war; and his disappointing past interactions with Ned Stark every evening. That had been taxing enough without the scrutiny of the others in attendance. 

On this evening, in addition to the ever-present discomfort wafting from Ned and Benjen Stark, Rhaegar felt stifled in the presence of Stark bannermen. A Targaryen king was not a common visitor in the North and so he expected to encounter some Stark bannermen; but, no matter how few or which ones they were his nerves never settled upon seeing them. On this night, the presence of the Karstarks, the Umbers, and the Manderlys, among others, just added to the discomfort he tried not to show. These were men loyal to the Starks; their loyalty to their liege-lord, Rhaegar knew, running deep. It was that same fidelity which led them to fight against the crown and him. These were men who fought in the war before he even knew there was one. These meals just served as another heavy reminder that no amount of politeness or civility any of them exchanged could alter the history which they passed through. 

While he sat, he observed those who arrived with him. Ser Brynden, among his niece’s husband’s folk fared better than Rhaegar imagined he would and certainly better than he did. The older man was as close to being welcomed as one of the Northmen’s own, even if he wore the white cloak Rhaegar gave him more often than not. The older man was now regaling some tale that even caused Rickard Karstark to smile more than once. He was the king to kingdom which survived a war he started, had a beautiful queen, and three children he is proud of and Rhaegar was almost jealous of the other man in that moment.

When Rhaegar looked towards Arthur, his friend was surrounded by those who were at something of a loss when it came to the Sword of the Morning. Even in the North there were those who heard of Arthur’s skill as a knight. If they were not awed by him they respected his talents and so welcomed him in the way those of a warriors bent are, but, some looked at him with unease. Rhaegar was not sure if it was because he was Dornish or because they knew full well the depths of his loyalty and friendship to Rhaegar ran. Even if all were intent on ignoring it, there was not one man here who did not know the cause the strained relationship between himself and the Starks and he fervently hoped that did not bleed into others’ feelings for Arthur. 

Though she claimed there were vast differences between the Riverlands and the North, Lady Stark, it seemed, was quite growing accustomed to living in the North. Of that, he thought was more than certain. She was able to and did keep to innocuous topics which inspired little reason to be more uncomfortable. He found it was easier to speak to Lady Stark than the others, but, even then, only just. All the same, he was grateful for Lady Stark’s presence. 

It had been Lady Stark who had initially offered to join him and select few of his party to show some areas of Winterfell which are said to be of interest to those who visit for the duration of his stay. Even if one was foolish enough not to know one did not refuse the hostess, he strongly suspected the reason for the selection of Lady Stark’s undertaking this duty. To Rhaegar, it had been most welcome. Though he tried not to express it, he had been pleased he had been given leave to walk about the grounds knowing only a few would find cause to join him, though he was shamed to think the sentiment included his host and his host’s brother. 

One of the first things she had done, with great enthusiasm, was to present him the heir to Winterfell. Lord Robb was a healthy lad from what Rhaegar saw. Rhaegar only stayed long enough to give the boy a smile and a gift he and Elia had commissioned; he could not stay longer. Even with the decidedly Tully looks, seeing the boy reminded him of his children too much. It had been difficult leaving his family, but, along with every other memory being in Winterfell forces him to recall, the one thing he could not forget was that there was a purpose in his coming North and it was to learn more about what they may face in the future. 

Lady Stark also showed him was the Sept her lord-husband had built for her. He had never been devout, but, there was something almost comforting about the existence of a Sept, in the heart of the North, when as far as he knew only the Manderlys worshiped the Seven, but, not too much. He had been equally surprised to learn Lord Stark granted him access into the Godswood. Of all things, this was unexpected. Though the lord of Winterfell was more a polite host than Rhaegar could hope for, he was under no delusion in thinking that even without his duties taking up much of his time Ned Stark would want to interact with him more than necessary. Whatever the impetus for it was, he was grateful for the gesture even if the effect was not what any of them imagined it would be.

This Godswood was far different from the ones he had seen before. The forest was dense with trees packed together and the area was so great that there were even dark pools of water within the lands of this Godswood. He knew that weirwoods were more common in the north, but, as he learned of late with regards to so many things there was a difference in knowing and truly seeing. This heart-tree had bone-white bark, the thickest of red leaves, and a solemn of face carved into it long ago. Lord Stark had, in his own reserved sort of manner, asked what he thought of it. Rhaegar said it awe-inspiring. What he refused to add was that while like the castle at Winterfell it was magnificent being in the heart of Winterfell only served to increase his apprehension. 

Now, as he continued to pick at his food, he recalled how he wished he could have said roaming around the grounds of Wintefell had been pleasant, but, he could not. Coming North and being in Winterfell allowed for no respite for his trouble-filled mind; where it was said to give Northmen like the Starks peace gave him the opposite. He certainly could not say walking the grounds improved those feelings, not when, almost as if by accident, he came across the one place Lady Stark had not taken him. He had known that there was a crypt where millennia of Starks were buried, but, he also knew that among them there were three recent additions. When he realized what he came across he had been torn between wanting to get away from it as far and as quickly as possible and a sudden need to see.

As he looked at the remaining Starks, solemn and politely distant as they as they were, he had to tell himself he did not have the right to ask anything of them. He was their king, but, only just. This was not the first time he had to remind himself being Jon’s father did not give him the right to anything Winterfell’s living or ghosts had to offer. He should pay his respects, his manners should not allow for anything otherwise, but, how could he give respect to the dead when he paid little respect to them when they had lived? 

He should ask. Ned Stark would likely blanch, if not disapprove; others would. Still, perhaps Ned Stark will relent if only because when Jon grows he will want to know about Lyanna, her family, and her people. They both know Rhaegar will have to tell his son something. He has to have some explanation for his children and he has no answer now that is good enough.

When the meal finished, even when he thanked his hosts and exchanged pleasantries with the others, Rhaegar was all too glad to be done with it. He was gladder knowing there would not be so many more events like this. 

When he returned to the rooms given to him he kept telling himself that all would be well; that there was one more day gone and he was one day closer to his goal. Repeating the words did not make him believe them. Sitting alone in these borrowed rooms he looked about, a grim expression on his face. He was far from Elia and the children because he chose to be. He told himself he needed to come North and he knew why he should, but, such things ceased to be a source for joy or comfort long ago. The rooms were well appointed; but, no matter how well-lit the room was, how thick the furs were, or how richly appointed the furniture was, this set of rooms gave him no comfort. He had been told these rooms were warmer than others of the castle, but, they far colder than he was accustomed to and he doubted he could do anything to make them seem warmer because he was certain it was not just the rooms which caused him to be cold. 

He had come to terms with the failures he had with his father, Lyanna, and how he acted upon learning of Jon’s birth; or at least had become close to it. But, being here made those thoughts potent once more. He had not been sleeping well; not any night after he left King’s Landing; and, certainly not any night he had been here. He doubted he would sleep better after he left. If his memories did not prevent him from sleeping fitfully, his dreams did. He dreamed of his own death on the Trident and of a dragon killing wolves. The one that worried him most was the dreams of dead dragons. 

Looking about these rooms which were not his he knew that though he despaired about what awaited him at the Wall and feared what may come after, the one truth he was certain of was that he was glad to be closer to being free of this place.

* * *

The night before he was set to leave Winterfell there was a knock on Rhaegar’s door he almost did not hear. It was not so unusual for Arthur to join Rhaegar for a few minutes, but, his friend’s expression could be best described as something between perplexed and alarmed. Rhaegar had been expecting no one else and before he could ask Arthur about what disturbed him so, Arthur spoke words Rhaegar was certainly never expecting to ever hear.

“Your Grace, Lord Benjen Stark wishes to see you.”

He blinked at Arthur; perplexed. He could count the times he and Benjen Stark exchanged words on one hand and now that one was here on the eve of his departure wishing to see him. For what purpose the other man was here Rhaegar could not possibly fathom and he could only say one thing, “Let him in, Arthur.”

Arthur visibly hesitates and frowns deeply. He begins, “Rhaegar” and pauses. No matter how much Rhaegar gets him to try Arthur rarely uses his given name. Rhaegar does not mention the use of it now. Between that and the deeply concerned look Arthur’s face tells Rhaegar all too clearly that he knows how Rhaegar feels in the proximity of the Stark men and how personally disquieting Arthur finds this development, whatever it might involve. Arthur continues, “Are you sure? You do not have to see him.”

Rhaegar is not sure. He has not been sure of anything, but, he nods ‘yes’. He thinks he has to see Benjen Stark. If the lad wants to speak to him, Rhaegar will not refuse. Benjen Stark barely looked at him without reason and did not do so without clear discomfort. If this one came to him at this time of night when he had been here for long enough, whatever he had to say would not be unimportant. “Show him in, Arthur.”

Clearly recognizing there was more to his acquiescence than he let on, Arthur takes a breath. “Would you want me to stay?”

He almost smiles. Even with the soured state of the relationship between the Starks and himself, Rhaegar is fairly certain he has nothing to fear from the boy to warrant Arthur remaining in the room. “That will not be necessary.”

Once more, Arthur frowns heavily, but, sighs. “Very well. But, I will be outside.”

“I expect nothing less. It will be fine.” Rhaegar smiles wanly, not knowing if he was trying to reassure Arthur or himself.

Within the next moment Arthur is gone and Benjen Stark is staring at him. The younger man’s greeting is said in a near approximation to what one of his older brother’s was. “Your Grace, I hope I have not disturbed you.” 

Just being in Winterfell disturbs him, but, it is not as though he can tell the other that. “No, my lord you have not.”

Neither says anything more and the silence is only disturbed by the crackle of the fire still burning in the grate. Had he been a different sort of man he would have laughed at the idea of Benjen Stark braving Ser Arthur Dayne but standing silent in front of him now, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else. Likely, Rhaegar thought, the other man regretted coming to see him or feeling the need to approach him at all. A moment later he mentally amended the thought: Benjen Stark surely did not want Rhaegar near him at all, let alone in his home. 

The silence stretches and becomes even more uncomfortable. He barely contains his sigh recognizing he will have to be the one who begin to speak so that they can get to whatever this was. “Please, sit down, Lord Benjen.” The dark haired figure sits down sharply and looks anywhere but him. It is funny to think Rhaegar is inviting a man to sit down in his own home, but, what little humor Rhaegar can muster dies swiftly because he does not know what the young lord wants. Perhaps, it was because he fears what the other man would say. 

Whatever it is, if he wants to know what this was about, it seems he will have to prod the other man. “Lord Benjen, you wished to see me? Is all well?”

Lord Benjen frowns at him. “No, I mean, yes, I wished to see you.” Even as his face smoothens Lord Stark’s cheeks flush as he turned away again. 

Rhaegar is beginning to think this meeting grows more curious, if not more disturbing. When nothing more is offered, Rhaegar speaks again, “About what, Lord Benjen?”

“You take your leave of Winterfell tomorrow.” 

Rhaegar wants to let out a laugh. A safe enough question to begin discussing whatever this meeting was supposed to entail when even the scullery drudges knew his next destination, but, it just delays the inevitable. “That is so.” 

“If you will have me, I will accompany you to the Wall.”

Of all the things he could expect: more nervousness, sharp words, yelling, or curses; this he was not expecting. Rhaegar feels apprehension at the offer. It would be an insult to refuse outright and it could be helpful to accept, but, why would Benjen Stark want to join him? He ventures, “That is generous, but, surely you are needed here.”

The younger man looks away and softly says, ‘Am I?’ Rhaegar can make no sense of the question, but, he suspected the question was not for him to answer.

He does not know what this is about, but, he can hardly refuse this request, unless…“Does your lord-brother know of your intentions to join my party?”

The dark-haired figure admits, “I had thought to join the Night’s Watch.”

If this conversation he was not expecting, this revelation was almost alarming. “You wish to join the Night’s Watch now?”

Before this night Benjen Stark could barely bring himself to look at him, now Benjen Stark’s eyes look nowhere else but into his. “I will not be joining just yet, but, there will be a time when I will.” He sounds so sure. Rhaegar remembers all too well he had been just as sure once.

“And you wish to see what it is like before you join?” Rhaegar was not a younger son, but, he knew that some had to make their own way and this was just one which was available, but, why choose that life and at so young of an age?

The younger man almost looks offended. “More than one Stark had served at the Wall and it is an honor to do so.” The words were honest and true, but, Rhaegar could sense an undercurrent of something which quite belied the other man’s answer. Of course, unlike with Aemon and other younger sons, Rhaegar knows the type of men he sent to the Wall and it was not because they were the honorable or dutiful sort. 

“But, you have decided not to join yet.”

“No.” Rhaegar does not mistake the frustration lacing the other man’s tone.

Rhaegar could not quite refrain from asking questions. “But, you will later?” He gets a nod. He searches, unsure if he should broach the subject, “Does your brother know of this?”

The younger man presses his lips together tightly before answering, his Stark grey eyes betraying his deep solemnity. “He knows I intend to leave for the Wall with you and has accepted that. As to taking the vows, he knows my eventual intentions. I would not think to speak for my brother’s thoughts on the subject to say more than that." 

The answer tells Rhaegar just enough; that the Starks have discussed the prospect of Lord Benjen becoming a member of the Night’s Watch, but, Ned Stark is not happy with his though he will respect his younger brother’s wishes; just not yet. With a sharp inward wince he recognizes Ned Stark’s reason for wanting his brother to delay what most of the North see as an honorable choice. However, none of it explains to Rhaegar why Benjen Stark is telling him any of this. “Very well, but, why would you tell me this?”

“Do I have your permission to join you as one of your number?”

If Ned Stark gave his approval and Rhaegar knows Benjen Stark has no reason to lie to him about it, he finds no reason he could use to refuse this, when his party could use the additional escort. “Yes, of course.”

The other man nods, but, why he does not seem more relieved, Rhaegar cannot grasp. “Was there something else?” It is a foolish question; there is plenty between them, but, the other man has not made any indication that he is leaving.

Rhaegar grows even more agitated in the silence that permeates the room. “What else would you have of me, Lord Benjen?” 

“I have one more thing to ask of you.”

Rhaegar tenses and cannot fight his frown. What more does Benjen Stark want of him? “What will you ask of me?” Will he even refuse? Could he?

A sigh and a pain-filled look is leveled at him. “Come with me. I wish to show you something.”

Not liking what he hears, his frown deepens though he is curious as to what Benjen Stark would show him and why. 

“What would you have to show me at this hour?” What would this man want to show him at all? What game was this? 

“It is both what and where I wish to show you. You have agreed to let me accompany you to the Wall and I knew you were intending to leave Winterfell at first light. I doubt we will have another opportunity for this if you refuse me now.” 

Before he can decipher such an evasive answer Lord Benjen speaks again, “Ser Arthur is welcome to join us, if that is your concern.”

A flare of anger rises in Rhaegar, one that he stamps down on swiftly. The last thing he needs is to create another incident with yet another Stark.

His nerves are beginning to fray and because of it, Rhaegar’s voice sharpens. “Lord Benjen, I will not go anywhere until you tell me what it is I wish to know. At this time of night, where would you take me? What would you have to show me that I even want to see?”

Benjen Stark, for his youth, in this moment looks very much like his older brother and sounds just as severe. “I want to take you to the crypts of Winterfell.”

* * *

Biting cold did not begin to describe what Rhaegar felt. It was not just the cold; it was dread. He tells himself he is being foolish. What else was wandering around someone else’s lands in the middle of the night with a son of the house to visit crypts when he cannot even claim he does so with the blessings of the lord of the place, but foolishness? But, it was not just that. He wondered what he would expect to find in the crypts. He knew what he was to see, but, was he prepared for it? What, if anything would be changed if he does go? As he walked more memories and recounted tales assaulted him. The more they walked the colder he got, but, it was not just the fierce winds or the falling snow which caused this sense of foreboding.

As he walked, with Arthur trailing him, Rhaegar thinks though Arthur would never gainsay him, he imagines Arthur cursing him silently for this. He wants to curse himself for it. He should not have agreed to this. He told Arthur he did not have to come, but, Arthur, loyal Arthur, would hear nothing of his going anywhere alone with Benjen Stark, not when it meant he was going to the Stark family crypts. 

He looks again at the younger man’s back. Lord Benjen had said his brother knew where he was, but, the younger Stark would tell him no more than that. When he asked about this Lord Benjen said, “He knew you would not ask.” Rhaegar did not get the chance to ask why his brother would even allow this. After Benjen Stark had spoken those words, the other man had turned away and continued marching towards his family’s crypts; his spine upright and stiff. No one spoke a word since.

No matter how thick the fir-lined cloak he wore, even in his bones he felt cold. He did not know what it meant when the closer they got to where the crypts were it only seemed to get colder and darker. 

The walk both took too long and ended far too quickly.

We must go down, Benjen Stark had said. Follow me, stay close, and be careful, the younger man warned. As Benjen Stark moved to open up the Ironwood door, Rhaegar felt that it was too late for such warnings. Though it was far too late to turn back, he almost wanted to. 

Dark. It is so very dark inside, was Rhaegar’s first thought. Even with the torches they carried, it felt far too dark and the path they travelled was narrow. Even had he been without this feeling of dread he doubted if they made their way here during the day this would be any less precarious. Being here felt wrong. It was torturous, how slowly they made their way down towards their goal. They further they went all the things Rhaegar read about the crypts at Winterfell fluttered into his mind; stories how old and cavernous the crypts were; of ghosts; that each tomb had images of their occupants stamped upon them; and how iron swords were placed at the feet of each one. 

Benjen Stark stopped all too suddenly and knelt for a moment. Rhaegar did not ask what that was about. Before them was what Rhaegar was ambivalent about seeing. He could not help but flinch. He remembered being told that only the Starks who had been kings or lords had been interred in these crypts, until these last three internments. This time it was he who could not bring himself to look at Benjen Stark though he had heard the younger man’s sigh.

Rhaegar’s eyes first fell to the tomb which he knew belonged to Rickard Stark. If the likeness depicting the identity of the buried dead was accurate he sees all too well how much both Lord Ned and Lord Benjen take after their father. Not for the first time does Elia’s voice enter his ears with Ser Jaime’s following swiftly after. He forced them to tell him of what they witnesses when his father ordered Lord Rickard’s death. He deserved to know what he failed to prevent. _What he caused._ He told them to spare no detail and with grim faces and soft, distressed and disgust filled voices they told him everything they could. He feels so cold he is shaking but his cheeks grow hot and he has to look away, only his eyes fall to Brandon Stark’s tomb. 

The image representing him is one of a young handsome man; a dead, young, handsome man. Rhaegar feels himself shaking even harder. This time he does not bother telling himself it is only because of the cold. Ser Jaime said Brandon Stark threatening his life is what prompted his father in throwing him in the Black Cells. Perhaps it had been true, but, Rhaegar knows this was the man who died while bound, struggling, and choking just trying to rescue his father from burning to death. He knows Brandon Stark did not come to King’s Landing alone and he was not the only young man to die. He and so many others would be alive had Rhaegar made better choices. He feels flushed and his eyes sting because he cannot look away. He swallows, but, his throat just tightens and he has to gasp for air.

When he finally turns to the last figure he flinches again. He could not help but take an involuntary step back at the face staring back at him. The far too young girl had the look of the Starks but it was not a very good likeness. He had not seen this face in years and there were many days he tried to forget Lyanna’s face but, he never can. Every time he sees his son he remembers her. He doubts he will ever forget. Being in front of this, he remembers the first time he saw her and happier times in the Tower; remembering how full of promise those days were for them both. He remembers her screaming and her crying when they learned of her father's and brother’s deaths. He remembers how she had wanted to leave and how he would not let her. He also remembers the betrayed look on her face when he said he was going to fight because he had his duty. He remembers feeling only one faint pang when hearing of her death.

His shaking has only increased and he wonders how he remains upright. He steps back but these three figures fill his vision though to his own eyes it seems the cavern has grown darker. He whispers, “I am sorry.” 

He thinks Arthur might have heard him speak, but, Rhaegar will not look at him or at Lord Benjen. He cannot bring himself to look anywhere else but at the dead. As true as the words are and as loud as he heard them in the silence, to him the words sounded hollow. 

He does not say anything else. No other sound escapes his lips, though his mind screams “I am sorry” over and over and over though he knows his words will do none of them any good because the dead before him would still be dead. 

How long they remained there Rhaegar does not know and he does not think they remained before the crypts for very long, but, it felt like they remained there for an eternity. 

As they return to the castle, Rhaegar tries to keep his gaze determinedly forward away from the crypts. He fails. He is not the only one. Even in the darkness, he sees how Benjen Stark looks far too ashen and tired than someone of his age should be. A deeply frowning Arthur looks no better, but, he keeps giving them both concerned looks. Rhaegar wants to tell him to save his looks for Benjen Stark because he does not deserve them, but, Rhaegar cannot bring himself to speak. 

That night, alone in the dark, he cannot sleep. He should not have gone to the crypts. He tells himself was an honor he does not deserve. He curls his lips in derision at his own thoughts. That he regrets going was not a question of honors. It is selfish of him and it is weak of him, but, he does not want to sleep because he knows that if he does, he will dream of the dead. His only answer to that is the angry whistling of the wind.

* * *

It was a grim morning when Rhaegar, along with his escort, prepares to leave Winterfell. He welcomes the idea wholeheartedly. Before he can leave, however, he must take leave of Ned Stark. 

He takes a deep breath. Like the previous night when he faced a different silent Stark he begins carefully, “I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Stark and that of Lady Stark. You have both been far too kind.” Rhaegar admits to himself, they had been kinder than he deserves.

As with any other time they are together, Ned Stark looks uneasy. “Your Grace, it was nothing.” 

Rhaegar cannot call it nothing because it was not. Still, he hesitates, debating whether or not he should say something when he thinks the other man will not thank him for revisiting what would be far too painful. “I do not mean only your hospitality for me and my men.” The other man is now frowning. He takes a breath. He decides to take the risk of speaking his mind. “I wish to thank you for allowing me the opportunity to visit the crypts of your forebearers.” 

Rhaegar thinks the other man can see how sincere he is, however, Ned Stark closes his eyes, with an expression so pained Rhaegar is sure the image will remain with him for many days to come. They both know it was not the Stark forebearers he went to see. 

Lord Stark begins, “I think she would-” He stops and they both tenses at the aborted mention of Lyanna. Ned Stark coughs and offers, “If you would have asked me directly I would not have refused.”

On some level, Rhaegar knew Ned Stark’s words to be true; still, Rhaegar thought had Lord Stark had his way, he would choose to not be in a position for granting Rhaegar any sort of favor he could ask for. Rhaegar settles for a reply which was true for him. “I felt I did not have the right to ask you of this and I would not presume to think I do.”

Rhaegar can see how carefully Lord Stark choosing his next words. “You are a guest here and you are my nephew’s father.” 

Rhaegar cannot find it in him to be offended at Lord Stark’s words or the slight grimace which accompanies them. “Perhaps so, but, I thank you for it all the same.”

Lord Stark coughs and starts again, “You were kind enough to keep me apprised of my nephew’s progress and I hope that means you will speak to him about his mother and allow me to continue to do so when he grows enough to understand who his mother was.” 

Rhaegar stalls for a moment. Eventually, he settles for saying, “Lord Stark, I wish I could accept such praise, but, I cannot. My son deserves to know about his mother and her people.” 

If anything, Lord Stark just looks more pained and though he despairs at the prospect Rhaegar suspects their exchanges will not become easier with time even when he gets a nod in response. Rhaegar doubts they will ever address Lyanna again. Rhaegar will never ask no more. Still, it is not long after that he sees Lord Stark’s gaze turn to his brother. 

The younger man’s voice is now the softest he had ever heard from him. “I hope that my brother serves you well as escort to and from the Wall.” Rhaegar knows what Ned Stark refrains from saying, ‘bring my brother back’. 

This time it is Rhaegar who closes his eyes, painfully aware of what the consequences of his venturing anywhere with a Stark in the past had been. “I am grateful he wishes to act as escort, but, we will return soon enough, I promise you this.” 

“I welcome your return.” As sincere as the response is, Rhaegar almost smiles knowingly. He certainly will do nothing to break whatever little trust Ned Stark has where he is concerned. He simply gives thanks to the man once more. 

When Rhaegar turns away and gives the Stark brothers a chance to say their goodbyes he remembers that he never learned the reason why Benjen Stark wanted to join the Night’s Watch in the first place. That thought fades away when Rhaegar once more remembers he has yet to go to the Wall and thinks about what that may bring. 

When they mount their horses and begin making their way to Winterfell’s gates, Arthur guides his mount closer to his. Arthur looks better than he had last night, but, there is a concerned look on his face. “Is all well?” 

He answers truthfully, “I am not sure.”

Arthur turns to where the Lord of Winterfell still stands. “Did Lord Stark say something to concern you?”

He nearly smiles. “No, he did not. If anything Lord Stark concerns me the least.”

Arthur frowns. “Then, what is it?”

“Perhaps it is nothing. I just did not get much sleep last night.”

Arthur gives him a long look. “My king and friend, what ails you is not a lack of sleep, or just not it alone.”

This time, he does smile. He tells Arthur as much of his fears as he can. “I am going to the Wall to meet family of mine who I only know through sporadic letters sent before my colossal blunders and the country was plunged into war. To say that I am unsure of what I would find is far too simple.”

Though he did not tell Arthur all, it seems Arthur always knew him too well. “Do you think he might find you disappointing or do you think you would be disappointed by what he has to say?”

His fears lie in how disappointment will not be the extent of it. “That is what I am unsure of.”

The silence stretched for more than a moment before Arthur responds, “I suppose you will find out soon enough.”

He looks back at the closed gates of Winterfell and the road ahead and thinks for a moment that had been easier. “I suppose I will.”


	21. Chapter 21

"Sister?"

At the appellation, Elia smiled faintly as she withdrew her hand from the door-handle and turned towards Viserys once more. Since returning from Dorne, she was no longer just 'Elia' to him. "Yes, my little prince?"

But, as much as he had grown taller and more formal he sends a familiar, disgruntled look in her direction and she has to bite back a smile. "Aegon and Jon are younger." The pout on his face is stubborn, like his words.

Like she had done when she first entered her good-brother's rooms, Elia settles herself in the chair next to his bed. "You were my first little prince and you always will be, no matter how many years or princes came after."

Sensing defeat he sighs and she fights a laugh even as she goes tucks a strand of hair away from his face. Ever since he had returned from Dorne, Viserys had deemed himself too grown for many things; chief among them was much 'mothering' from her, except for the rarest of occasions. Her good-brother took Rhaegar's leaving soon after his return to mean he was responsible for her and the children while Rhaegar was away. Most indulged him, even dear Jon, who had initially been nonplussed when he saw how Viserys trailed after her into the council chambers, clearly indicating his intension to be included in any part of decision making. While she allowed it for the most part, and as foolish as she knew it sounded, Elia wanted all off her children to remain the children they were.

"Are you going to the nursery once you go from here?"

She was. She had the same ritual every night, but Viserys knew that. She wondered why he would ask. "Yes."

"I started to teach Aegon more words. Jon started too." She smiled. Some times Rhaenys would join in. Viserys seemed so proud of the way they were both "helping". Targaryens always were proud and independent, but, she wondered why he would bring up such a thing now.

"I heard." Aegon had started to speak and she was sure Jon and Daenerys would follow soon after. She was proud at how clever they all were or how she found so much joy in their fledging efforts, but, witnessing it only served to remind her that Rhaegar is not here for it. He missed so much already and he will miss more for what ultimately turned out to be the same purpose. Part of her resents it while another hates herself for thinking in such a manner.

"Do you know when Rhaegar will be back?" She stalls at the plaintive question. So, that was the purpose of this. She wishes she had an answer for him. She would like some for herself. She knew what path Rhaegar would take to the Wall and not too long ago a letter from Winterfell arrived in Rhaegar's hand. But, she knew even his arrival at the Wall did not ensure her husband's quick return no matter how much she, or his brother, wished for it.

Pulling Viserys into an embrace, she smiles slightly as he does not argue about it or the kiss she presses into his hair. "The letter did not say, but, it will not be long before he gets to the Wall. He should have left Last Hearth by now."

There only had been a few letters, but, Rhaegar had written of his journey North and he had written before leaving Winterfell. Knowing Rhaegar would go to Winterfell of all places brought back thoughts she tried her hardest to put behind her. Still, in the letter he wrote about how much he missed her and the children and she had been touched by his concern. But, the less innocuous words in the letter caused no end to her worry.

Viserys nodded. "I miss him."

She whispered. "I miss him too." She meant it. The Red Keep was always a bustling place, but, it was lonely without her husband. She had gone without him for months before, but, she had no reason to enjoy those and she did not enjoy being without him now; not for this, no matter what he might find. It certainly had not helped letters from elsewhere was full of felicitous news. She celebrated how Oberyn wrote of the way Cersei was delighted with their Loreza and how happy Ashara was with Lord Stannis and their Steffon, but, she could not help but be jealous; even of poor Lysa who lost her first baby soon after getting to the Vale, but, was now pregnant with another. They were sharing their spouses with their children while she had to share hers with the realm, first, and with a prophecy which may lead to danger to their children or mean nothing at all, second.

"Why did he go?" What could she even tell Viserys when she does not fully understand this herself? Then, Rhaegar shared his thoughts about the Prince that was Promised, but, she did not want to believe even when he did. Though he admitted he had been wrong before, he still believed. He found signs when Aegon was born. There had also been his disappointment she could no longer give him a child without endangering her life. Of course, there was also Lyanna. All of that, there had to be a reason for, didn't there?

When he returned from war she thought he was done with it all and it was no secret to him she wanted that. Then that letter from Maester Aemon came. She would have prayed the letter was simply an inquiry into their children, but, she knew enough to know such was a thing a fool hoped. Still, she could tell nothing of this to Viserys. "He wanted to visit Maester Aemon."

She releases a breath she had not realized she was holding when Viserys nods, accepting her answer.

"Have you ever met Maester Aemon? What is he like? Did you know he could have been king? Why did he not want to be? Why did he join the Night's Watch?"

At the deluge of questions she tries to put aside her previous thoughts and laughs aloud as she holds up a hand to interrupt him, even if to her ears her laughter sounded hysterical. She had quite forgotten he loved to ask all sorts of questions and some of them were not ones appropriate for someone his age. She mused on how this was another thing one had to contend with when faced with Targaryens. "Viserys, one at a time. Give me the opportunity to answer one question before you ask another." Give her time to answer appropriately is what she does not say.

For a moment he looks apologetic, but, the expression was far too quickly replaced by an expectant look. She did not mind encouraging Viserys interest in family, but, for far too long Targaryens and prophesy were intertwined. When she wrote to Aemon, his responses back made no mention of prophesies of any sort, though she was sure he knew what Rhaegar told her about and she knew he believed.

Settling on the answers she was partially comfortable with, she admits, "I have never met Maester Aemon, though he and your brother had written to one another frequently. He has written to me as well. He seems very kind and very wise."

It was the truth, but, not the entire truth. Maester Aemon had seemed kind, but, she never met him and she could not entirely separate him from Rhaegar's obsession with prophesy.

As inadequate as her answer was, she considers herself fortunate her answer seemed to please Viserys. Unfortunately, with the rest of these questions, she did not know quite how to answer what she knew was not for her to tell.

"I do not know for certain why he chose to join the Night's Watch, but, I think he knew his brother would make a fine king and this was one way of ensuring it happened."

No one truly knows why Aemon chose as he had, but, he must have had other reasons besides love of his brother. She just wishes she did not suspect it was for the reasons she does.

"What is the Wall like?"

Her lips twitch in surprise and with no small amount of relief. "Cold, I imagine."

Viserys looked positively indignant at that answer, however, there was only one way a person who had never seen the Wall could respond to such a query. He looked poised to argue and she could only think of one solution. "Perhaps you would write to Maester Aemon, yourself, if you truly wish to know what life on the Wall is like."

He stares at her in surprise, as if the thought never occurred to him. "I could?"

"You have questions I cannot answer and so you must ask someone who can, particularly as they involve him."

At his pleased look, she could not help sternly add, "If you wish to write to him, you shall, but, he is your elder and I expect any letter you might send be polite and not too intrusive. There are some things he might choose not to answer."

It was not only because the Maester had his own duties she admonished Viserys. Rhaegar's interests had been augmented and abetted by his correspondence with the Maester. Now that she voiced the possibility of Viserys writing to him she hopes she does not come to regret it. She knew what Daena seeing the Doom of Valyria had proved, but, prophesies nearly consumed Rhaegar once before, like it had consumed so many of his forbearers. Who knows where any of this may lead?

Picking up on her mood, he nods solemnly. Once more she rises, only to see Viserys clasp her hand.

"Elia?" She laments how it is this which takes for her to be 'Elia' again.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, can we go to the Sept and pray for Rhaegar's quick return."

She steps closer to him again and leans down to kiss his forehead once more. "We can and we will."

She straightens and walks to the door, "For now, I need you to sleep. You have lessons in the morning."

Moving to close the door behind her, she stifles another laugh when he groans audibly enough to cause Ser Lucas to trail off from where he was speaking to Ser Gerold to look at her questioningly.

She clears her throat to give her a moment, while Ser Gerold extends an arm to her. "Ser Lucas, I would appreciate it, when Ser Oswell comes to relieve you, if you would ask him to ensure Prince Viserys gets to his lessons on time tomorrow morning." With this, she knew what to do and how to act. She wishes she could take comfort in such things.

His lips twitch. "Of course, the Prince has lessons with Maester Pycelle, I believe."

"Yes." Though she should, she could never bring herself to corrected Viserys' dislike of the older Maester because while the man knew his duty, she simply did not trust him.

"Of course, Your Grace. Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you, Ser Lucas."

When Ser Gerold escorts her to the nursery they wave away the night nurse and she gives into the very strong impulse to kiss all of her children. He had been patient while she watched her sleeping children, but, she caught the concerned expression on his face.

Tensing, she swallows thickly. When he does not speak, she prompts, "Let's hear it, Lord Commander."

His eyes glance at the closed door before going to stand next to her. After a moment, he whispers, "Ser Arthur wrote to me." She should have expected the Lord Commander would get regular reports, if not from Arthur, then Ser Brynden, but, what happened that the Lord Commander would speak to her about this now? Viserys' questions had highlighted many things she would have rather not think of, but, now there was this. "When?" She curses herself when her voice is more strident than she intended. She should not let her fears get the best of her.

The Lord Commander, thankfully, decided to ignore how terse her question had been. "This morning."

She nodded, trying not to become annoyed at this being kept from her and nearly failing. Ordinarily, she does not meddle in the affairs of the Kingsguard and Rhaegar's absence was no excuse to do it, but, Arthur was with Rhaegar and so if there was something amiss she should be kept appraised of whatever the other man learns.

She tries to stifle such thoughts. She knows if there was something truly dire he would have spoken to her earlier. "I see. And what does Ser Arthur say? Everything is well, I hope. Has something else unexpected happened?" Even as she says the words, she tries not to think of the worst, but, she is no comfortable about the about this venture of her husband's than she had been when he first suggested it. There were also other less intangible considerations about Rhaegar's going North, the least of which included inhospitable hosts; sickness; and the potential dangers bandits, wildings and men of mountain clans can cause.

"Your Grace, they are safe and hale as far as I know." She nods, not trusting herself to speak just yet because Ser Gerold still looks troubled.

Should she be even more anxious? She almost thinks that might not even be possible. "What concerns you, then, Ser Gerold?"

"Your Grace, he tells me, His Grace has not been sleeping well."

She nods. She knew that, but, what did Ser Gerold know about what Rhaegar entrusted her with? "In what way?"

"He tells me His Grace has been plagued by more than one bad dream."

She had not known Rhaegar for this long not to know how it was said he had been born in grief and touched by melancholy. And of course, Rhaegar wrote to her of those dreams. Still, she was curious about how Arthur would interpret them and what Ser Gerold would say.

"Ser Arthur would not delve into specifics, but, if I might be frank, Your Grace?"

That was almost unexpected. Ser Gerold was usually never so direct. "Please do."

Ser Gerold presses his lips into a thin line. "Ser Arthur tells me His Grace has become rather withdrawn and anxious. Now he tells me His Grace dreams sleeps poorly and this has become more typical after they had visited the crypts belonging to the Starks whilst at Winterfell."

The Lord Commander's voice is thick with disapproval, but she did not know who or what disapproval was directed towards. Even without that, he looked so terribly concerned speaking to her about Winterfell. He always was. Aside from Ser Gerold, only Ser Barristan could be said to be more traditional of the Kingsguard, and as such did not like to go outside of his duties. The one exception where he acted beyond his role was his obeying Rhaegar to stay at the Tower of Joy when he knew he should have returned to King's Landing. Of course, he and the two others who had been at the Tower of Joy, would never speak of it to her, much less anything else connected to it.

However, this was no time for maintaining sensibilities. "I know."

If this had been any other time she would have savored the look of surprise on the usually unflappable face. But, when it came to Rhaegar and the North, none of this was something she could think about with any sense of comfort. For that matter, the same held true for Ser Gerold who had been with her when Brandon and Rickard Stark and the rest of those lords were slain. "You know about this, Your Grace?"

"I do." Sometimes she thinks she knows too much. "His Grace has written to me and in his letters he described what Ser Arthur relayed to you."

"He has?" She can practically taste how curious he was and how disturbed at her admission though she thinks it should come to no surprise her husband would write to her. But, then, Rhaegar had not the last time he ventured far from King's Landing so she could excuse how others would think Rhaegar wouldn't, even when she did not like knowing why this is.

She looks down towards her children to give her time to gather the words which might give Ser Gerold some reassurance, if any. She wants to reassure herself. "Ser Gerold, His Grace never sleeps easy and would not when there is something that needs doing. He saw the need to go North and the suggestion is not without merit. He knew it meant also going to Winterfell. His Grace and I have discussed the events preceding the outbreak of war and the role the Starks had largely unwittingly played in it at length. He understood the difficulties surrounding this for all involved and chose to do so regardless. As much as I dislike how I am unable to help him when he needs it of me and while I fear for him I have to trust that he will endure." She rips her eyes away from her children to look at Ser Gerold again. "We all must. There is no other choice."

As true as the words are they taste like poison on her tongue.

* * *

Rhaegar jerked awake. He rose and blinked to adjust to the darkness which surrounded him. He looked over to… the empty space beside him; the empty and cold space beside him.

This was not his bed. In the darkness he looked about the strange room, sighing softly. This was not his room, either. His mind whispered, _‘This was not his place’_. If it was, Elia would have been here, sleeping next to him; but, she is not. If this had been his place, while Viserys was much too old and the rest of them much too young to try, Rhaenys would have perhaps climbed in between them on some night if the mood struck her. None of his children were here, either. 

Looking about the worn room he is all too aware he chose to be away from his wife, his children, and his home. No amount of telling himself that it was for his children he was here will change that.

He looked at the too thin blanket still covering him and thought the better of it. Trying to go back to sleep will not help. He knows he not be getting any more of it. But, then, he does not remember the last night when sleep had not evaded him to some extent if not entirely. He gets up from the far too cold bed and goes to basin on a low table to splash some water on his face, even though that is just as cold as everything around him.

He slowly opens the door to see Arthur. 

“Your Grace?” 

“Arthur, you are awake? You did not have watch this night. Where is-” 

Arthur shook his head “I sent him to rest. I had trouble sleeping. If I cannot go back to sleep I might as well be put to good use. It is too cold.”

“It will only get colder, Arthur.” They share a smile; two Southrons in the North. It was unnatural to them, but, then, nothing of this was natural.

“Your Grace, what woke you?” When he did not say anything Arthur frowned. “Did you have another?”

He shook his head. Arthur knew of his dreams, of course. He had so few secrets from Arthur. He knew he was not the only one disturbed by it. Arthur had also seen fit to tell Ser Gerold, but, Rhaegar could not blame him. Ser Gerold had not liked this venture and certainly disliked having to be left behind. Ser Brynden surely knew, though Rhaegar was certain the other man was not aware of the particulars. Elia knew all, but, she was not here. 

“What was it this time, if not that, then?” 

“I cannot say I remember much.” The images were jumbled. Even if he could untangle the mass of unfished and incomplete thoughts it was not as though he could do anything about them. 

“Was it Winterfell?” That ashen, guilty look on Arthur’s face tells him Arthur wishes it was not. Arthur had no reason to be guilty. He thinks Arthur would have never gone if he knew what the younger Stark had wanted to show and Arthur would have tried to stop him if he did. Whatever happened, it was his fault, no one else’s, and not Arthur’s.

“No, I cannot say what it was exactly, but, memories of Winterfell it was not.” He would have liked to blame his time in Winterfell for this, but, he knew better. Places should have no effect on his mind. But, that is not entirely true. One would only have to look to Summerhall to know that places could affect even men like him.

Spending his nights at Summerhall with only Knights of the Kingsguard and the stars for company had not prepared him for this journey. Nothing, no books he read and no one he spoke to, had prepared him for life in the North. If Winterfell was cold and Last Hearth even colder, the road away from and further North was more than he ever desired. Here, in the so-called New Gift, these nights in the North were some of the worst he experienced. Suspecting he will experience many more once he finally gets to the Wall is one of the few things to halt his tongue. What troubles him is not just the cold. He wishes it could just be that.

He shivered again. The night in Winterfell he visited the crypts belonging to the Starks he dreamed of the dead; the deaths he was responsible for. He laments those dreams, but, not nearly to the degree that he laments how those dreams came to exist. He laments his role in why those came to be. On this night, he thought of the dead, though this time he thought of the long dead. 

“What was it then?” Arthur's curiosity is laced with no shortage of worry and Rhaegar is saddened at knowing how he causes it.

“It was probably just the cold and the history of the place. Dragons might have not made it a habit to venture this far North with or without a reason, but, Queen Alysanne did.”

Arthur nodded, but, said nothing.

These past few nights he and his party trekked through the New Gift. On this night they were at the Queenscrown. When they had first arrived Rhaegar looked about abandoned holdfast he wondered if something in him was at fault given how differently he and his predecessors viewed the North. 

Queen Alysanne had bestowed this tract of land and this structure to Night’s Watch because she saw something of worth. He was not going to see the state of the Night’s Watch. Most kings and queens after and that list now included him, sent rapers and thieves and noble sons who had nothing else and had little reason to hope for anything else. The few exceptions included Maester Aemon, but, what did he know of the man besides what family lore said and the words written on parchment traded between them once every little while?

Unlike Alysanne, he, on the other hand, has not even finished half of this journey and hopes he never has to make it again. If anything, even with the need, he has long since regretted coming North. But, as with most things, he went too far to turn back now, no matter how much he wished he could. He wonders what Queen Alysanne would have said of him.

He knew what history said of those who came before him. He knew what would be said of his father. How would history look upon him? 

To change the subject he says, “How long have you been awake?”

Arthur shrugged. “Not very long.”

“It will not be long until we reach Castle Black, I think.”

Arthur, uneasily agrees, “Lord Stark thinks it should be less than a week, if we make good time.”

Rhaegar nods. Benjen Stark, much like his brother, did not speak much unless necessary. He was never impolite, but, after the last time Benjen Stark kept his distance from him. Rhaegar saw no reason to change it. They were in a small company and so he knew that the Stark would always be near him, but, when he looked at the boy, and Rhaegar could only think of him as such, he thinks he might have brought ruin to him like he had the others in his family.

With Benjen Stark, even without being one who sleeps down the hall from him, Rhaegar knows that he will forever remember the boy took him down to his family’s crypts and how Rhaegar learned of why that came to be.

_“Lord Benjen.”_

_“Yes, Your Grace?” The younger man’s voice is unsteady and he looks startled. Rhaegar wants to shake himself at the thought. He was not rude to Rhaegar, but, they did not speak much. Even at Winterfell, the other spoke little to him, why would he be more open to speaking to him when they were nowhere near his home. Yet, there was nothing to take offence at when the boy had enough reasons to avoid him. Still, Rhaegar had a question for him._

_“First, let me say that I am grateful that you would accompany us on this voyage.”_

_The sullen faced youth shrugged though he did not look at him. “It was nothing, Your Grace. As you might be aware, I intend on becoming a member of the Night’s Watch. One day or the next I will go.”_

_He nodded. “But, per your lord-brother’s wishes you will postpone joining the Night’s Watch.”_

_Still looking at anywhere but him, Stark murmured, “Yes.” Rhaegar would have thought nothing of it, but, there is an edge to the word which Rhaegar suspected had little to do with him._

_“Yes, I know.”_

_“Was there anything else, Your Grace?” This one was always eager to be away from him, though Rhaegar had every reason not to question it._

_“There is one thing. While I am grateful, so very grateful, you have done so, I must ask, why did you show me the crypts?”_

_The younger man flushes. “You were a guest. You wanted to see them, did you not?” Rhaegar does not think the words are spoken in anger. But, the boy does not want to answer the question at all. The other does not know Rhaegar that well if he thought he would leave such a thing alone. He quickly sobers knowing that what the other knows about him or his actions is less than favorable, with good reason._

_“Yes, I was, but, why would you show me them?”_

_The younger man still does not look at him. “You were not going to ask, so I took you.” That was not the most open of responses, but, it answered nothing._

_Rhaegar pressed, “Even if I wanted to, you did not have to offer. If I did ask, you could have refused me with impunity. I did not deserve the honor your offer presented.”_

_“Honor? Showing you had nothing to do with bestowing honor or deserving it, Your Grace. Please, just accept that I took you.”_

_He frowned. “Why must I just accept it?”_

_This time Stark looks at him with a frustrated look he is become far too familiar with. “What does it matter why I let you do anything, even see where my family is buried? It will not make them any less dead no matter who sees them, even when the one who sees them is you.”_

_He would have been stunned silent had the boy not said what he had. “It matters. Everything maters.”_

_He gets a hysterical laugh in response. “Can you not take a gesture for what it is, just a gesture?”_

_“If it was just a gesture, then you would not fight answering me.”_

_“Did you ever think it had nothing to do with you?” At his shocked expression, the Stark snorted, “You thought it did! I do not want to disabuse you of the notion, however, it had very little to do with you, though I do agree, it is something you should have seen.”_

_There was no response he could give to this confused statement. “How do you mean?”_

_The thin face with stormy grey eyes look back at him. “Was it difficult being down there? Seeing them, dead. Knowing the role you played in it because you did not do as you should have?”_

_He almost stood up to go away from this boy and his cruel words, however, he knew he earned whatever scorn he was given and he saw the Stark was not done with him. “Try being the one who had the chance to prevent it all. I am the one who does not have the right to see them and so I avoided it. You gave me an excuse to go see them though it is me who does not deserve the honor. Is that what you wanted to hear, Your Grace?”_

_Bitterness he expected, and perhaps even welcomed, but, in his incomprehension, he blurted, “What do you mean? What was stopping you? Did your brother forbid it?”_

_Stilted laughter bubbled from the boy’s throat. “Ned? You do not know him at all do you? He would never refuse me, but, I am the one who cannot go into the crypts. I am the one who does not deserve to see them.”_

_Even when this was the second time the Stark said it, Rhaegar cannot grasp what he means. As if to answer his unvoiced question, the other says. “It is my fault they are there.”_

_Of all things, this was not what Rhaegar ever expected to hear and never thought. Rhaegar frowns, a sinking feeling forming in his stomach. “If anyone is at fault it is me and my father. Lord Benjen, what have you done to think that way?”_

_A bark of a laugh follows and the other looks away again. “I know what you have done, but, you could say that I did not do enough. Well, no, I did not do enough. I knew what Lyanna was intending to do. At Harrenhall, I teased her when she cried when she heard you sing. Had I stayed with her and not been too busy being taken in by the sights and sounds she would have never become ‘Knight of the Laughing Tree’ and caught your attention. The year after, I learned what she was intending to do. If I said something, anything, none of this would have happened. Before she left with Brandon I should have said something. Father would have never let her leave if I had been brave enough to tell him. After we learned Brandon raced off to King’s Landing chasing after you, I could have said something to Father; to anyone. I should have said something. Instead, I remained mute and they died because I did so.”_

_Rhaegar feels bile rise in his throat even as he chokes out the words, “Nothing you could have done would have changed what happened. My father would not have had the chance to do anything to your father and brother had I acted like the prince I should have been and Lyanna would not have died had she not gotten with my child. None of that was your doing. It is my fault, not yours.”_

_Perhaps, his voice and words are sharp, but, Rhaegar cannot help himself. “That was all my doing, Lord Benjen. I asked Lyanna to come with me. I told no one in King’s Landing where we were going or that Lyanna came with me willingly. I left my father in King’s Landing to do as he did. That is on my head and the blood that spilled is on my hands. It is not on yours.”_

_A stray thought comes to him. He whispers, “Is this why you wanted to join the Night’s Watch?.”_

_The set of the boy’s shoulders becomes stiff, however, it did not look as though he did so deliberately. “It is why I should.”_

_“Then you are doing it for the wrong reasons and without purpose and should not do it at all. There is no reason to give up your future; to go without a wife and children; a life of your own for something that is not your doing. How many times must I say that you are not at fault? Tell me so that you do not throw your life away.”_

_This time, Benjen Stark shakes his head. “I knew and did nothing. Father died to protect my family. Lyanna will never have a husband and it is your wife who my sister’s son will call ‘Mother’. Brandon had not the opportunity for a wife or a child. You want me to have a family? A life with a wife and children? What life do you think I could have had knowing this? Your Grace, I could not serve my family when it mattered. You can tell me it is not my fault all you wish but I cannot stay at Winterfell and I will not for more than my brother requires it of me. I cannot bear to be in the same place where they rest in death knowing my inaction put them there. Even when it was more your doing than mine, I will not do it. You Southrons see the Wall as punishment, but, for me it the only chance to reclaim my honor. It can only be the Wall for men like me.”_

Thinking about it now, Rhaegar remembers never wanting to shake a man out of his stupidity more, however, he refrained then and says nothing to Benjen Stark now. Stark will do what he wished and will join the Night’s Watch one day or the next if that is what he wants. Who will tell him otherwise? A man of the North sees it as a duty to join the Night’s Watch and it was not uncommon of a man who was born a third son. Rhaegar’s words would mean little to Benjen Stark and that would have been true long before they even met. 

Besides, what more could Rhaegar say to him? What could Rhaegar offer instead? He understands duty and he understands love of family. He understands why Benjen Stark intends to do as he will. Even with a grand purpose, even if Rhaegar was right this time, even though he was here for his family and their future, how could he say anything to Benjen Stark? Rhaegar is here in an old tower in the middle of the desolate North going to the Wall while he left that same family in King’s Landing again. How could he accuse anyone else of madness after all he had done and when he was here?


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maester Aemon had three brothers: Daeron, Aerion, and Aegon (later became Aegon V; aka Aegon the Unlikely). Aegon was also Rhaegar's great-grandfather.

If seeing the houses of the North filled him awe, seeing Castle Black in the distance as filled him with a sense of anticipation which quickly dwindled into dismay the closer he got. Once inside these massive walls his disappointment intensified though he tried not to show it. The place was striking, as it should be, yet, the signs of decay were unmistakable. There were men going to and fro and a bustle of constant activity, but, he could not ignore the distinct sense of something lacking. If he could see it in Castle Black, he fears about the state of the few still operating keeps. He thinks of his night at the Queenscrown. Even in death, Alysanne must be screaming in consternation.

It is ungenerous of him, but, many of his misgivings come in the form of men who make up the Night’s Watch. There are a few sons of proud lineages at the Wall, and though he is certain the likes of Benjen Stark will still join their number one day, it is the others which gives Rhaegar pause. Most of these men he does not know well enough or at all and then there are some men here he knows only by name and reputation. Some are here because his father, or rather, Lord Tywin sent them; some, his own words caused them to become members of the Night’s Watch. 

Others of King’s Landing did not think much of the order. Many times he had heard of the Wall being described as a magnificent relic. Those who knew he was coming here said “it was a worthy idea” though with little enthusiasm. In the North, they have a more exalted view, however, when the Northmen he came across spoke about the Night’s Watch, they do it in terms of duty and tradition, not of affection. 

As if that was not enough to be concerned with, he does not require the Lord Commander to tell him about how many men there are at the Wall. Though Lord Qorgyle was a man who clearly valued using strict mandates, there are not enough men to properly man the Wall’s defenses let alone to combat an unknown future threat.

As diminished as the role it plays in Westeros seems to be, he knows the value of the Night’s Watch. Seeing this, however, he has much to do; far too much. Even if there was no future danger to face, he should help rebuild one of Westeros’ oldest intuitions. It is the least he should do. For now, he does fear and his mind whispers a litany: “prepare, prepare, prepare”. Once the Lord Commander took leave of him, it is with that thought, he went to see Maester Aemon, at last.

* * *

“Enter!” They met briefly when he arrived, but, the meeting had been full of ceremony and with others in attendance. Rhaegar remembers the odd look on the Maester’s face which quickly melted away when they had been introduced. Black clad for years and Maester Aemon was still a true Targaryen prince. Now, from inside his doorway, he does not know if that is to be boon or bane.

“I hope I am not disturbing you?” Even if Maester Aemon would know he was here for no mere whim, he does not know how the other man will react to his inquiries. It is one thing to put words to paper; his being here was something else entirely.

“No, you are not, though, I will admit curiosity. It is not often one gets to meet a King of Westeros at the Wall.” Remembering the men he saw earlier, he wonders if Maester Aemon is hinting at the same sentiments Northern lords do about Southron attitudes towards the Night’s Watch. He ponders of what the Maester makes of him, though he noticed the older man called him by his title.

“You knew me before I became that.”

With a pang, Rhaegar remembers this smile leveled at him though he had not seen too many of them. It is was like his father’s when he had been capable of doing more than sneering. Through age-clouded eyes, the old man peered at him before stating, “We corresponded, yes.” 

Why phrase it such a way? Rhaegar hesitated. He wonders if it is some sort of attempt at distance though the man speaks the truth. 

He tries, “We are family.”

Rhaegar can practically read the Night’s Watch’s oaths in the lines of the weathered face. After a few moments of silence Maester Aemon admits, “Aye, we share blood.”

He releases the breath he was holding and chastises himself for forgetting there were many years separating them and the idea of a man forgoing his former relationships was integral to taking “the Black”. With Lord Commander Qorgyle that had been a relief; after all, he hailed from the Dornish city where Oberyn had been fostered. Here, with this man, it rankled, though he tried not to show it. “That is not all.” 

The older man looked as though he wanted to sigh. “No, it is not. Sit.” 

Seeing the remnants of court-practiced politeness directed towards him Rhaegar almost did so himself. He sits in the plain, uncomfortable, wooden chair in the corner of this small room the older man gestured to. Maester Aemon continues, “You had a good journey, I trust.” 

Now, Rhaegar does sigh.

Because the Maester does not seem to want to begin the discussion Rhaegar does not quite know how to start Rhaegar answers the query posed to him. “Yes, I suppose.” He remembers all too well Elia’s publicly masked hesitance, Arthur’s concern, the sleepless nights, the suspicious looks from those of Winterfell and other places in the North, and the thrice-damned cold. The journey was far from easy, even if the road was.

Knowing nothing of what he does, the Maester nodded agreeably. “Good. The roads are not always so tame and it is a long voyage from King’s Landing. I take you have seen enough of Castle Black for today.”

Oh, yes, he has. “True enough.” 

Maester Aemon nods. “If you are settled, and while I would not think to suggest anything to man grown, much less a King, I think I might tell you to write to your home. Your wife is eager to hear from you.”

He was not taken aback by the use of ‘your’ rather than ‘our’ when the man mentioned ‘home’, but, the rest of what he said caused him to straighten with no slight measure of alarm. “Elia? What of her? She wrote to you? Is she well? The children?”

He nearly sighs in relief when he sees that almost unfamiliar smile again. “All is well in King’s Landing, including your wife and children.”

When he sags back into his chair in relief, looking vaguely amused, Maester Aemon speaks again. “Is it so surprising your lady would write to me? It is no short distance you traveled well beyond a simple matter of days. It is only proper she writes to me knowing you will be here. Now, that you are, though I have my own letter to write, I imagine she would more welcome something written in your hand than mine.” He pauses and amends, “Or appropriately, my steward’s.” 

Setting aside acknowledging the last portion of that sentence, he questions, “You plan on writing to her?” 

The look the Maester Aemon sends him is full of something which seems to be censure. “To not respond would be the height of rudeness to such a charming letter.”

He is used to others considering his kin odd and he knows others view him in a similar light, but, this one seems to be just as unusual. “Charming?”

“There is plenty to be said about Dornish simplicity cloaked in the manners of King’s Landing.” 

He nearly scoffs though he does not contradict the statement. Of course, if Daeron was Aemon’s grandfather, his grandmother was Mariah Martell. “And so you will write because she wrote to you?”

“Ravens travel quicker than men. As it is, we have corresponded before, though it had been some time ago. I was rather expecting it, when you informed me of your intensions of travelling North.”

He hesitates before speaking. Elia agreed that he should come to see Maester Aemon, though he was under no delusion she championed the idea. The knowing look on the man’s face tells him he suspects the same. Still, the man spoke of it as though he very much welcomed her correspondence. 

As if reading his thoughts the older man says, “It is not often one receives letters written in a practiced lady’s hand here.” 

Rhaegar supposed that was true, but, there was something warm in the Maester’s expression. He said she was well, but, he has to question, “How was she?” 

“Well enough, I suppose, though, she is concerned for you. She says your daughter asked after you and how your sons would likely welcome tales of your journey when you return.” There was a wistfulness about it Rhaegar almost had to look away. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that if he looked away from Aemon then he would begin to regret being here rather than being in King’s Landing when he could have been. 

He promises, “I will write to her.”

Maester Aemon nods again. “And your brother. I have a letter from him, as well. You might want to add a note when you get to writing that letter for your lady.” He blinks. Maester Aemon is full of surprises. He wonders what sort of omen this is to be.

“Viserys wrote to you?” He never spoke to Viserys about Maester Aemon and as far as he knew neither did Mother or Father. Viserys was curious about everything, but, what brought this on? He supposed this could have been inspired by his brother’s lessons, but, he simply did not know. A voice in his mind accuses if he had been in King’s Landing he would have known. He smothers the thought as quickly as it came.

The older man shakes his head. “Asking all sorts of questions.” 

There was something in the tone which sparks his own curiosity. “About what?” 

The way the Maester sits back into his own chair seemed to say that he was settling in for a long evening of talking. He had come here to speak with Aemon though he had not thought it was his wife and brother he would be speaking about; and yet, he was. The Maester replies, “It seems he finds me of a certain interest. Aside from wondering if you reached Castle Black and about living in it, your brother thought to ask something of a more personal nature for me.”

He frowns. ‘Personal nature?’ What questions could Viserys possibly have for their much older kin? It certainly could not be…“Such as?”

“Your brother wanted to know why I decided to join the Night’s Watch when I had the chance to become king.” He chuckles, clearly amused. Rhaegar was not.

“I apologize for his impertinence.” Such a question! He will most definitely speak to Viserys upon his return. Curiosity is one thing; rudeness such as this, quite another.

Maester Aemon lets out a soft laugh and waves a hand, almost attempting to wave his concerns away; as if it was nothing to be dogged by the questions of the impudent young. “Your wife already has, though there was no need. It is quite understandable, if he was curious about our history. Since he thought to ask I should tell him something. It is better that than his making up his own tales.”

He knows Viserys had questions about the journey, but, this boldness had to have come from his brother’s time in Dorne. That might also explain why Elia, even when she saw fit to apologize, still sent the letter along. When he looks at Maester Aemon again, other thoughts strike him. Why would he be so indulgent? He swallows, starting to wonder if the Maester first began writing to him for similar reasons. “You intend on giving him an answer?” 

As if to explain, Maester Aemon says, “Those who know about the Grand Council convened, naturally, would find the matter of interest. I was the subject of inquisitiveness when I arrived at the Night’s Watch. Children are curious and your wife implies this is not something new with regards to young Viserys.”

He supposes that might be true enough. He had no different in that regard, though his questions for the Maester were of an entirely different subject. Delicately, he reminded, “I never asked”.

He gets a searching look before the Maester speaks. “No, you did not.” As evenly it is said, Rhaegar wonders if the other man would have liked it if he had.

He blinks away the thought. It was too late to do anything about it and at present, he was equally curious about what the man would tell his brother. “What will you tell him?”

There was that smile again. “I will tell him the same thing I told my steward, who just as unsubtly asked me the same question when your brother’s words left his lips. My grandfather decided that I become a Maester of the Citadel and began forging my links when I was so young. Maesters never expect the possibility of becoming king. It is an unlikely possibility for third sons of fourth sons, you see. I will tell him once the circumstance arose, I was certain Egg, Aegon, would have made a good king while I chose to continue to serve the realm in a different way.”

There was something in the tone of the Maester’s voice which prompted his next question. “That is not the entire truth is it?”

The look on the wizened face is far milder than his father’s would have been, but, Rhaegar feels the severity. “No it is not, but, it is enough for a boy your brother’s age.”

“What is the truth, then?”

He froze in horror the moment the question left his lips. “Forgive me-”

Maester Aemon holds up a hand. “One should not require to forgive every time someone asks questions, my boy. What I said to my steward and what I will write to your brother is the truth, but, I do not think either would quite understand why I chose the way I had. It matters not if they ever do though it was a simple thing.”

“Simple?” He nearly chokes on the word. Passing up a crown is simple? He knows all too well forgoing any sort of responsibility to take up another is nothing simple.

A nod. “Usually, the course of one’s life is fairly predictable, even for those of us who have the luxury of being born well; even for those of our blood. The only time it is not is when we are faced with uncertainty. When one is faced with more than what one expected, one can either keep moving on the path they always did or embrace the unknown. I chose to remain on the path I was always on; the one which kept me away from the Iron Throne. So, you see, it truly is that simple, but, I do not think that would satisfy a boy Viserys’ age.”

Rhaegar let the words wash over him. Unlike the Maester, Rhaegar always knew the Iron Throne was to be his and it became his. His unexpected, however, was the prophecy. Only he embraced it and believed it with surety.

“Knowing as you do now, would you have chosen differently?” He does not ask if he should have chosen differently. Such thoughts plague him far too much.

The older man frowns. “I am not certain. Some days I am content with my choices; on others, less so. If you are asking if I could have chosen differently, there is no doubt about it.”

Confused, he ventures, “How do you mean?” 

“As I said, I never felt I would be king. That I found it so easy to convince the Council to name Egg the king makes me think I did not deserve to be. Still, I had other choices than to defer to my brother.”

Rhaegar swallows. Any other choices Maester Aemon would have likely meant he would not have been standing here, much less as a king. “What choices were those?” 

“Daeron’s daughter would have never been allowed to take the Throne, of course, but, there was Aerion’s boy. I could have chosen to be Regent for him or tried to convince Egg to do it. To allow him to take up the mantle of king when he became a man grown would have been proper. It would have been a matter of a few years, but, Aerion was our older brother and it would have been his son’s due, after all.”

“Aerion Brightflame?” Rhaegar swallowed. Before there had been his father, Prince Aerion was seen as the maddest of their kin and for Maester Aemon to speak so plainly about perhaps putting forth his son to rule…

As if he was reading his thoughts, Maester Aemon nodded. “It might be unkind of me to say such things of the dead, yet, I cannot say Aerion was dear to me nor was he dearer to Egg or Daeron. While the tale of his death are talk of legend, albeit of a terrible variety, one does not necessarily have to see the father in the same way one sees the son. Given the eccentricities of some of our kin, for any of us to personally hold such a view would be troublesome.” 

How innocuous the words sound for such a terrible reality when voiced in a pleasantly even tone. He admits, “There are those who are only too happy to see the son as an extension of the father.” 

Surprisingly, a dark look passes across the Maester’s face. “You think the same holds true for you?”

He waits a moment before stating, “I have done certain things which shocked plenty.”

When the Maester nods agreeably it is not astonishing. His words and the hardening expression, however, are, “Shock is a rather mild term, I should think.”

“You would censure me?” Others have. He wonders what form it would take this time. Years ago, even months ago, he believed no one would or find a reason to do so. To embrace the unexpected, indeed!

“Though there is little to be done about it, had I known what you would do, if I assumed you would listen, I believe that I would.” 

Though he still blinks at the easy admittance, the grim set of Maester Aemon’s mouth tells him not to doubt the words, though to do so never so much as crossed his mind. “Would you, truly? Where would you start? Are you saying you do not believe in the Prince that was Promised?” 

Maester Aemon shakes his head and even laughs; however, once again Rhaegar is reminded of his father, because the bitter twist of the lips, so far away from a smile, he was more accustomed to seeing. “I considered that would be your primary motivation; at last, now I confirm it.”

Even when he is thankful they are finally discussing the purpose behind his presence here he has to squash the irritation which spikes within him. “That does not answer my question though you are correct in how it drove me. Do you or do you not believe?” 

When Maester Aemon’s head tilts just so, he fights the urge to flinch. The gaze, so piercing it fills him with much disquiet. The sentiments intensified when the Maester spoke once more. “You studied the subject extensively as have I. Then, you are equally aware of the vague nature of prophesies, even when they come true. You also said it more than once you were mistaken in your interpretation.” 

He grimaces. “Are you suggesting I am mistaken again?” He does not like the implications, but, he had been plagued with the idea. He would be a fool not to be and he had been foolish enough in the past. He cannot afford it now.

“You very well might be correct in thinking as you do; it does not necessarily make it so.” He fights a frown. Maester Aemon’s calm voice is far from soothing and his words are even less. The older man has no right to sound as though he was saying the most reasonable of things; not after he helped him understand aspects of the prophesy in the first place. 

“How do you mean? Though I once thought I was meant to be the Prince that was Promised, I now know it is not me. It was said the Prince was to be born of the union between my father and mother.”

“As far as I recall, you stated a wood’s witch brought to your grandfather’s court made the pronouncement for which that was the result.” 

The abrupt change of subject made pause, but, he was forced to admit, “That is true.”

Maester Aemon muses, “It was long after I left King’s Landing when she arrived at Court, but, I was written to about her by others before you did.”

“Were you?” Of itself, the information is nothing surprising, but, what does he mean by this?

“The wood’s witch was brought to court by Jenny of Oldstones.” 

He does not grasp what the Maester was hinting towards, and his tone is sharper than he intended. “Yes, she was. What of it?”

Clearly, thinking nothing of his outburst, the man shrugs and replies, “It could mean anything and nothing. I simply find it odd that the girl was not good enough for one of my nephews to marry without giving up his due inheritance, but, who she brought to court was worthy enough for my other nephew to listen to and influence the course of our family.”

Never considering such a perspective, he blinked in surprise. “You are saying that you do not put much stock into the wood witch’s word.” Charlatans are in no short supply anywhere and he knew King’s Landing had its fair share, but, this? 

“I am merely suggesting one must examine the messenger alongside the message.”

He murmurs, “I see.” For a moment it feels as though he was trying to deny the belief Rhaegar has. What could he do if the Maester no longer shared his belief? Could he change that? Does he even wish to? As pleasant as the thought is, even when he could ignore the wood witch’s words, he knows that it was not only her pronouncement which proved the impetus for his belief.

Rather than argue the point, he waits for the other to continue, which the Maester does. “If we can take her words as truth and I have no reason to suspect they are not, then we must move on to consider her message and what it may mean.”

A chill which has nothing to do with the cold fills him. “You think the prophecy does not refer to Aegon.”

He was not expecting the sharp look he gets. “I think nothing of the sort. You may be correct in that; even now. You described to me the circumstances which made you suspect the prophecy referred to this son of yours. I cannot deny how those are highly suggestive. Still, you and he are not the only ones to be born of the line stemming from your parent’s union. This is something worth considering.”

He presses his lips together. He ventures, “You think I might have seen the signs incorrectly? Do you think the prophecy could refer to Jon?” Though he had been wrong and received a Jon instead of a Viseyna and Jon could be said to have been born of the union between ice and fire, the signs pointed to Aegon. He knew he had to prepare all of his children for what may come, but, what would it mean if he was wrong once again?

He straightens in his chair when he sees that smirk again. “Or Viserys.” 

He frowns; “My brother?” Something else he had not considered. No doubt, that was the purpose of Maester Aemon’s voicing it. He thinks of their earlier words regarding Viserys. Was that why…

He ignores the knowing smile the Maester graces him with. “There is also nothing to suggest the term ‘prince’ refers to someone who is a man. You are just as aware as I in how Valyrian translation can be cumbersome. You also have a daughter and a sister. They all are of the same line.”

He sags back into his chair, those words nearly having the impact of a blow. “It could be any of them?” Where did this come from? He remembers each letter the older man wrote him. He had been certain Maester believed. Now he asks himself if the words in those letters were the ones the older man truly wrote or if they were ones he wished to read. He presses his lips together reading the Maester’s most recent letters to Elia. Her eyes asked the same questions in his own mind now. 

As if to mock him the man goes on to say, “Prophesy can be difficult even to those who know exactly what they see. While there is nothing to suggest you are incorrect, it is not necessary that the witch’s word means anything, much less to firmly believe the prophecy refers to any of them, for that matter. Even if we can hold all you believe to be true, the Prince that was Promised may just as easily refer to any of their descendants, assuming of course, that the prophecy will, in fact, come to fruition at all.”

What was this? Was this Aemon’s method of saying he no longer believes in the prophecy without stating it outright? Frustration builds more sharply within him. He had come here because he believed Aemon had answers. Thus far all he had received were questions which suggested otherwise. He reminded, “In the past our dreams saved our family. That you cannot deny. The Dragon has three heads; that has nothing to do with the wood’s witch. You believed. This, I know.” 

He hesitates when he sees those lips curl upward the same way his father’s used to. “Ah, yes, and I take it you are going to tell me that because you have three dragons in the cradle you have become more certain.”

“It would fit, would it not?” He knows he sounds brusque, but, all that happened had to have occurred for a purpose; otherwise, all the things he has done, all that he intended…

Maester Aemon retorted, “Because you tried to make it fit.”

At the way Maester’s eyes seemed to sharpen, he sat frozen for a moment. He has never forgotten, but, now the weight of his mistakes press upon him once more. “I know that I went about it the wrong manner-”

Sharply, Maester Aemon repeated, “The wrong manner?” The older man shakes his head. Voice dripping with incredulity, he continues, “Is that where you believe my objections lie? You truly are Egg’s son, aren’t you?” 

Rhaegar’s brow furrows in confusion and apprehension. Where did this flash of anger come from? What did he mean by ‘Egg’s son’?

At his expression, the Maester states, “Do you think I do not know why you are here? The others might believe you are here to see this old relation of yours, to see the Wall, or even, perhaps, to reconcile with the houses of the North. There is certainly enough reason for you to do all of it and while it may, in part, be true, I know you Rhaegar Targaryen. You are here for validation and you mean to seek it from me.”

Hearing this his temper own flared, and he bites back, “Is that so wrong to want to believe the one constant in my life is a true constant? All of my life I dedicated to duty to the realm and if the realm is in danger I must act, even if is a mere possibility even if I do not know how to best go about doing it. Can you truly sit there in judgment and criticize me for it? You, who dedicated your life to learning of such things! You have just said you ran from duty when it came to you. Would you have me do the same simply because it proved difficult?”

The older man wastes no time in rebuking him. “I know what I have done and have not done. I lived far too long not to have tasted all manners of regrets and I do think of what could have been. I also spend many nights thinking of what may come. However, do not tell me that trying to turn vague words into reality caused you to lose sight of your other duties or that you have not erred in trying to see the prophecy through in the way you wished.”

He goes to speak and then hesitates. No matter how much he wishes it he cannot argue against those words. The very idea tastes sour on his tongue though there is little he can do about it. Still, if anyone could and should understand it is the man before him. “I know I acted in haste.”

Maester Aemon shakes his head in palpable disappointment. With a voice mired in misery the Maester speaks again. “I was not referring to your appallingly unfortunate timing.”

He stiffens. If he would be accused and judged, will Maester Aemon not speak plainly? “Then, what is it you are referring to?” 

He steels himself after receiving that incredulous look. “By the gods, child, did you learn nothing from the mess Aegon made?” ‘Aegon’, this time it was not ‘Egg’ much like he had been ‘King” and not “kin’.

The words nearly confuse him out of his irritation. What did that mean? And just like that understanding dawns slowly. He whispers, “It is true, then? He was trying to birth dragons at Summerhall?”

Maester Aemon jerks his head sharply. “Aye, he had the dreams; Daeron too, for that matter. Egg would tell me he needed dragons while Daeron dreamt of one and the destruction it would cause. If your brother knows the family history I trust you not ignorant of it?”

Though phrased as it was, it was not a question. Maester Aemon shakes his head once more. Silence calls and in front of him all Rhaegar sees is an old man who is the very picture of desolation. When the Maester speaks again there was no shortage of woe in his voice. “Daeron! Such a waste, but, Egg! Of my brothers I loved him the most and he was a good man who I believed would be a good king, but, he too gave in to those wretched dreams. All he did kill himself and others while I was here, unable to do anything. They say you were born under Summerhall’s shadow. Clearly, you know the tale. How is it, then, you ignored what happened there?”

Even when the words touch him he does not understand if Aegon thought there was a need to bring dragons to life and have the same dreams, how could this man be saying this if he loved is brother so much? Why would Aemon say this now when the letters between them bled belief? “It is in part because I know the story that I believe. Can you truly tell me different?”

The Maester frowns. “I do not say what I do because a lack of belief, but, my boy, you must understand how before I spoke the vows of a brother of the Night’s Watch I was a Maester of the Citadel. Even those most-learned of men say magic is long dead. I might be old and nearing complete blindness now, but, I have seen the skulls of long dead dragons littering the halls of our fathers to know they are just as dead. My brothers saw the same ones and were dead before their time. When you first began writing to me, I found your reputation for being intelligent and thoughtful to be well earned. You must have seen the same and known the same.”

Gods! Little else would have cut so deep. “Then what would you have me do? Am I to forget or ignore my fears and what I learned and read? All those letters we exchanged! Was all that you told me about for nothing or were you simply humoring me? Is all I have done for nothing? Is that what you are telling me now?”

Maester Aemon rises from his seat; far more quickly than Rhaegar thought possible for a man of his years. “Do not think me so cruel that I wasted your time and mine or that I do it now. Then, you had questions and so I answered them as best I could. I would have done that for anyone who would have written to me. If I thought for one moment it was for naught I would have said so, even now; especially now.” 

His temper is close to fraying once again and he waits before replying. “Then, what are you saying? Speak plainly. I do not understand and that is all I want.”

The old man laughs. “What understanding can I help you to reach when I do not understand fully myself? While I have knowledge few would know exist, my boy, I am not a seer and I know better than to pretend to be. I cannot say if what you have seen has been for nothing because I know that whether or not we are ready, what is fated will come. Perhaps what you believe may. It does not mean that I have to agree with your actions, when you tried to master fate.” 

By the end, the man looked even older than he did mere moments ago. But, Rhaegar cannot let it end here, not when he is once more set adrift. He whispers, “What?”

He gets a hard look. “You know what I mean or at least you should. If not, I can be of no help to you.”

He swallows his irritation and takes a deep a breath. “You mean my role in the war and the events which led to it. I should not have left my father. I should have taken precautions before eloping with Lyanna. I know where my mistakes were.”

He stops, not knowing why the Maester frowns at him when he freely admits to his failings. The Maester Aemon replies, “As the Crown Prince it was your responsibility to at least mitigate your father’s excesses. That you came to see it, gives this old man hope; however, where the girl was concerned it is not that you should have taken better precautions when ‘eloping’ with her. You should have never taken her at all, your father’s unpredictability being only one of the reasons to refrain from doing so.” 

Now it was his turn to frown though he swallows his initial thoughts. He counters, “Because she was high-born?” 

He had seen in many faces when he first returned to the Red Keep before taking command of the Royal Armies, that the outrage he caused by absconding with Lyanna would have been far less if he had done so with someone of a far less noble birth. However, he suspects that will not be the cause of Maester Aemon’s consternation. He remembers all too well what heard from Benjen Stark about how generations of Starks became members of the Night’s Watch. The Maester would have also known Rickard Stark and perhaps the Lord of Winterfell before him. 

Even then, he blinks when the Maester grimly replies, “I would rather think you that you remembered you had an equally high-born wife and children you left to do as you did.”

He nearly flinches at the reminder of the beginnings of their conversation. He knows how he failed there as well. While there were to be leagues between Lyanna’s brother and him, he will never be free from Doran’s wordless disenchantment or Oberyn’s contempt. Must there to be reproach from this quarter when things were best left in the past? He grinds out, “That is between Elia and myself and I did not leave them for a mere whim and I had no intention of staying away.” He does not bother adding how he does not intend to do so now.

As if he said nothing the older man replies, “There was the matter of the girl’s betrothal to your cousin.”

His jaw twitches. This man can say whatever he wishes about not wanting to be king, he certainly retained the ability to pontificate on all manners of matters even those which should be of no concern to him. “Robert?” 

“Yes, Robert, your cousin; your family and mine.” Rhaegar did not bother trying to ignore the emphasis on the last four words, much less try to stop to think the thoughts they bring forth. 

“You were close?” Though he tries not to let it, the prospect does bother him.

“I never met him and we never corresponded. Never the less, he is, he was the grandson of Egg’s daughter.”

His mind finishes what the old man does not say, ‘you are the grandson of Egg’s son’; an equal relation to the Maester. Of all the things Maester Aemon would speak to him, this was one thing he would rather not speak about, but, if the old man wishes to speak on it they shall. “She did not want to marry Robert. She came to me willingly. I did not intend to spite him and the betrothal was not among my considerations.” 

Prophesy and what would come had been more important than much of anything else. Much as he did not like to admit it, he had not thought about Robert until he was forced into it. 

“She was someone whose father spoke for her, even when she did not agree with what was said. Did even she know what you were after?”

No, Lyanna did not know the entirety of what drove him. Few did though many died for it. He remembers each word Elia recounted of the time in King’s Landing and when others haltingly spoke of war. He watched Robert’s face lose all of its color. The crypts of Winterfell were just the newest reminder of what followed him. “I needed more than what I had and she wanted different than what she was headed towards.” If only they had known… 

That grimace he was familiar with, even when this is the first time he seen it on Maester Aemon’s face. “I doubt that was of any comfort to her, Robert, and her father; or yours, for that matter.” 

He does not argue, but, he was not the only on responsible. “I suppose not, I admit it. It was my fault for not acting appropriately, but, my actions are not what started the war.”

“I know the men your father killed and I know he demanded Robert’s head.” He hears the unsaid all too clearly.

“And that meant Robert had to rebel? He chose to do so.”

Maester Aemon counters, “As far as I know, Jon Arryn was the one who raised the banners in his name, and yet, you chose him as your Hand while your cousin lay dead.”

Many moons passed and even in the frigid north, the sounds of thundering hooves, the smell of flesh, and the sight of blood assault him. “Jon Arryn is not my Hand currently and I had to make concessions, to fix a broken kingdom. As for Robert, he was trying to kill me.” Uncharitably, he thinks, ‘How is it that the Maester chooses to ignore that?’

The expression on his face tells him his ‘uncle’ finds the response inadequate. Perhaps it was, but, he certainly had not done any of this to spite Robert or wanted to kill him. “And yet you succeeded where he failed.” 

Those words feel like he had just been slapped. He closes his eyes, and yet, all he sees Robert’s face twisted in rage turning in to shock when he delivered that final blow. 

His fists curl at his side and he only just refrains from lashing out in a way he knows he will regret. He takes a shuddering breath to compose himself. “Do you think it could have ended any other way? Whatever happened at the beginning; we were at war. I had to respond when I learned what happened and he called me out. One of us were going to die at the hand of the other. Do you think I do not wish I had done things differently or that I do not grieve for him along with so many others? Even if I did not know that his youngest brother was a friend to my own and Lord Stannis’ restraint comes from his own honor, I know I wronged Robert in more ways than one. I shall never forget it and I must live with it.” 

The Maester is unrelenting, “I suppose that excuses it, then.” 

The hard look on the Maester’s face is so reminiscent of his father’s that he growls in frustration. “No, it does not and you will never hear such things from me. I did what I had to do. I did not expect my father to kill all of those men and as I stated or I did not expect for what followed to do so. Had I, I would have done many things different differently, I swear it!”

The old man presses his lips together before replying once more. “Yes, but, you were nowhere to be found and there is no changing the result of that.”

Not knowing what else to do he throws his hands up. “That is my fault. I will say it as many times as anyone needs it from me, but, I cannot undo what was done no matter how much I wish it. You say most believe magic is dead; then what do you expect me to do when I cannot bring the dead back to life! Would that I could.” _Gods, he is tired._ This was not why he was here and yet he cannot go now, though it would be so easy to get up and walk out of that door right now. 

“My boy, I am not asking you to do the impossible.”

The laughter that bubbles up from his throat is edged with hysteria. In one moment Aemon rages at him about Robert and in the next he calls him “my boy.” Rhaegar understood the man who wrote letters to him. He does not understand this man at all. He gestures between them and through clenched teeth, he manages, “What would you have me do, then? If you have nothing but disdain or vitriol for me why did you agree to my coming here? Was is because you wished to berate me to my face? Tell me what it is that you want from me because I know not what will please you.” What good will come of this? It will not bring Robert back to life or stop Stannis from privately hating him. He can try to make amends or curse himself from dawn until dusk, but, there is only so much he can do. 

The man gets up once again, this time slowly. Eventually, he whispers, “My boy, you give me far too much credit. I do not have disdain or vitriol for you and I do not think I ever could. Do think that this is some form of those. I also do not need you to please me. I have been at this Wall for far too long to enjoy the waste such things bring. This is man speaking to his younger relation; as is my duty. As to why I wrote? I wrote because I always did. Once the war was done and you were installed as king I thought it best to begin again. This…” He gestures between them and turns away to look out through a small window. Rhaegar knows behind the glass the only thing to be seen is snow.

Rhaegar makes no move to follow him, and the words Aemon whispers keep him in that chair. “Fire and Blood. Our words. Most look upon those words see strength. Do you know what I have come see?”

“What?” 

Aemon turns back towards him though for a moment it looks as though it was not Rhaegar the old man was speaking to. “Fire and blood is what we cause.” He has nothing to say to this; he cannot when he caused both.

When the old man’s gaze is truly focused on him he continues, “With Egg I believed it best if I completely separated myself from King’s Landing. With Jaehaerys, he made his own plans and had no need of me for the three years he was king. By the time your father was king I might as well not been one of you. But, I was never content with it; not entirely, though I stood by my oaths quite thoroughly. When you first wrote, you were so eager and so I wrote back. By providing you with the knowledge I had, I thought I was being helpful, but, I did not think to warn you of the trappings of what we shared. I kept at a distance. On my part, it was an error I do not intend to make again.”

He hears what Maester Aemon does not say and the guilt of causing it gnaws at him. “You feel responsible.”

“I am old man at the edge of the world who has seen enough of his family destroyed by more than their own selves for little or no reason at all. Many nights I wondered if I had not written to you perhaps some of this mess could have been avoided. You looked to me. I should have taught you better.” 

Rhaegar opens his mouth to reject the words he heard but hesitates and looks away from the man whose shivering has little to do with the cold. He wants to tell him of how he would have been driven by prophesy no matter if Aemon wrote to him or not. Still, he doubts the other man would be mollified by his denials even when they are true. Had this been any other moment he would have mused on how this was yet another thing they have in common. Instead he says, “You thought I went mad, like Father had.”

“Your actions did not inspire much confidence.”

He does not try to argue and he is not riled by offence. He lacks the energy for it and the words are honest. In truth, he deserves what the Maester is telling him, given what they just spoke about…“Then why did you write again?” If he proved to be so disappointing…

“Because, as you say, we are blood. I wanted to know if you were well and I wanted to know whatever madness took hold of you was truly gone. I heard about the steps you were taking to rectify what could be, but, I had to know for myself, for certain.”

“And what have you found? Am I mad for still believing?” He does not ask, ‘Am I still found lacking?’ He was almost worried to hear the answer. 

Aemon shakes his head in a ‘no’ gesture. “Then I am equally mad, my boy.”

Though the words feel something like a reprieve; that is the extent of it. Once these very words would have filled him with elation; no longer. However, he could not help but comment, “And yet all you have done is present argument upon argument about why I could have been wrong and why I still might be.”

“Can you truly blame me for it?” Aemon sighs, still sounding weary. “As much as I want to wish you are wrong, I know far too well that wishes mean very little when faced with fate.”

He closes his eyes and leans back. “Then what do I do now?” What can he do? If he is correct, this was a matter of his children. What does he do now?

“If you truly believe that there is something coming, you must prepare for it.”

So simple and yet is anything but. “How? If I am correct then it is to be my children whose burden this is to be, whatever form it might take. They are too young and I do not know enough.” It nearly hurts to think it, but, if anything the Maester spent much of the evening teaching him this.

Once these words would have never left his lips and the thought would have never occurred to him. He would have been so sure that when his children grew victory would be a certainty. The Maester smiled at him, as though he was pleased at his musings and yet Rhaegar can take little joy in the expression or the words that come after. “It does not mean you leave them to their own devices. A man who fights alone against a great danger or even three can fail.”

He knows that all too well. He tried it and made a greater mess of things.

“What do you propose I do, then?” The Maester might not think him mad, but, others may, if they already do not for being so concerned about a threat he cannot truly understand.

The older man smiles at him again, this time Rhaegar thinks it is far more genuine than any other the man graced him with. He never thought he would be so relieved to see it. “Give me your ear, my boy. I am not going anywhere and I doubt you are for a while. Between us, we might think of something. I know you well enough to think you came here without a thought about what actions you believed are necessary. On the morrow we can comb through the tomes and scrolls I have in my possession. It is a start.”

Though he did no such thing, for the first time in a long while Rhaegar felt the urge to smile back.


	23. Chapter 23

Standing on a parapet overlooking the sea, Rhaegar sighs. Since reaching the Wall he has sighed so frequently. A far too frequent reaction than he once would have ever thought himself capable of. 

He breathes deep, taking in the frigid air so think around Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. 

He hated it, he hated everything about Eastwatch. He should not hate anything, but, he does. 

It does not help that while the stone and timber of Castle Black was covered in white, this holdfast and the surroundings of it were so very grey. The walls were grey. The earth was grey. The sea beneath it was grey. The commander here, Cotter Pyke, was grey in pallor and in demeanor. Everything was so damned grey. 

He supposed it was appropriate, given his mood.

Castle Black, garrisoned as it was, seemed wanting. It was garrisoned in full, or at least as full as possible, but, both Lord Commander Qorgyle and Maester Aemon admitted as much, with no shortage of reluctance and hesitance. That was disturbing enough. On the other hand, to call this keep manned was an understatement at best and a travesty at worst. Even if he was capable of it, this did not deserve any nonchalance. He could only say it was a travesty of the highest order. 

He is very close to quitting Eastwatch and Rhaegar thinks he might have been glad. Only, there was still Shadow Tower to see. One more, but it seemed just as daunting task to see this last still functioning holdfasts of the Wall than it was just to come north.

He has seen enough to know that he has not done enough. 

He shakes his head, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the thoughts. Those will not help fix what ails him now.

The Lord Commander informed him, and Pyke confirmed the truth of it soon after he arrived, there were even fewer men at Shadow Tower. Three holdfasts of nineteen which are manned at all and were done barely. He wonders what else, besides a near empty holdfast, would await him there. 

Cotter Pyke welcomed him to Eastwatch with a pinched expression and a too sharp nod. Seeing as how the man primarily left him to his own devices, he suspects the man would likely see him off with the same. He had not minded in the least. 

Quorgyle and Pyke notwithstanding, he does not know how the last commander would greet him. The commander at the Shadow Tower was a Mallister; a Ser Denys. Quorgyle thought well of the man or so he said. But, then, the Lord Commander was not the type to speak ill of a compatriot. Pyke, meanwhile, did not seem to like his associate much. However, Pike did not seem to like anyone much. With no shortage of reluctance had Pyke admitted the man was capable with what he was given. 

It was both something and nothing he could take comfort in. 

By now Mallister would know of his presence at the Wall. He likes to think Pyke’s belligerence alone would have recommended Mallister’s finer points to him, but, Rhaegar does not know the man or remember him much or how the man would respond to him. None of what he does remember, that he unhorsed Mallister’s nephew at a tourney once and how his father killed one of their kin, is bound to be helpful in their meeting. Once again, he was grateful he brought Ser Brynden with him. Mallister would welcome him at least or so he hoped.

Seeing Quorgyle’s formality and what passed for Pyke’s hospitality, he ponders if he would be a welcome sight when he enters the other man’s domain at all. It would not surprise him if he would not be. The Wall was a hard place, where courtly civility was unnecessary and almost cumbersome. Most of the men had neither the time nor inclination to change that and he knew better than to expect it. 

Since arriving in the North, no matter where he ventured he was met with a palpable sense of ambivalence. He was not thought of highly by many Northmen and knew well their reasons. 

He expected it and accepted it, but, at the Wall the sentiment was magnified. Though no one said it to his face, but, perhaps there was resentment of him both from the men he sent here and from those who disliked the type of men he sent here. He deserves it.

With Qorgyle at Castle Black, he learned quickly enough that even if the commanders accept his presence, he knows it is not because they want him to be here. Relatively unexpected royal visits were not exactly welcomed by all and no king stepped foot at the Wall in so many years. 

Whatever this future meeting entails, he would not press his company on the even more unwilling than he already has. He does not need the memory of Aemon’s rueful expression to tell him that trying to force things will get him nowhere pleasant.

It does not mean he is at ease with not knowing. He never has been. And yet there is so much he does not know.

Looking about he feels a weight settle across his chest though there is nothing that meets him but silence as he takes in the sight of Eastwatch. 

No king of late had thought to inspect the goings on here. His father certainly had not. That much was certain. Perhaps not even his grandsire. 

Once again he thinks it is because the Night’s Watch was set apart from much of the Kingdom. Keeping the order at a distance had its purpose, but, now he sees the result of it, he can feel nothing save dismay. 

No one came to the Wall for a whim and most only reluctantly or as a last resort. Even now he had not come here because of the Wall itself. Aemon knew why and Quorgyle did not ask, but, the man knew that about him. But, where Aemon told him to his face, Quorgyle seemed content to leave it alone. Of course, they were not the only one who knew he never expressed any interest in the Night’s Watch or much of the North before. 

It was no accident that he still avoided Benjen Stark. 

On that thought he feels a pang of regret. No, his inattentiveness had not helped at all. He could do nothing about the past, but, the Night’s Watch…Here was something he must fix. 

He grows weary knowing the list of things becomes longer and longer the more he thinks and the more he sees. 

It was only too easy to recognize answering the infrequent calls for more men had not been enough. The men at the Wall would not refuse any aid he could give now that they knew it was in the offering. And yet, there were limits to what they would accept of him aside from what they do request. 

Even then, identifying one problem will not lead to solutions. 

A chill goes up his spine thinking of that night in Winterfells crypts.

More often than not his discovering solutions to problems and acting on them turns his solutions to ash. 

He looks down at the sea once more. No matter how long he stares at it, he knows there will be no answers for him in those grey depts. Much to his regret, there were not too many answers to be found at the Wall. The ones he had received were not overly helpful or much unburden his mind. 

That was not to say that being at the Wall was entirely unhelpful. In coming here Maester Aemon’s thoughts were what he sought. He found those to be sure, though even after the first meeting the Maester said many things he had been ill-prepared to hear. But, he was grateful for what lore the Maester could instruct him in. 

There were various tomes here full of information only being in the ancient North he could have had access to. He was grateful for what he had been given leave to learn though there was only so much one could learn from a book or scrolls especially when he does not know quite what he sought. 

The look on Maester Aemon’s face had been sly when he professed a notion of words he wants to see not appearing for him simply because he sought them. As if to reassure, Aemon said that while he was visiting these two other holdfasts there were still books and scrolls he would scour through. Though he did not and could not agree with all the older man said to him, given the man’s indulgences with him and a lack of continuing to address certain matters, in his gratitude he thought it best not to comment upon what the older man’s saw as restraint.

And yet, there was only so much knowledge Aemon could give him. That had also been the old man’s admission. With that damnable prophecy, he does not know much more than he had. No one knew and nothing he did will allow him to, not even Aemon or his books. Maester Aemon instructed him in the lore and some of the signs, but, there was only so much they could know when neither of them were seers. 

The Maester spoke of fate and destiny. He knew all too well what he believed fate would bring for his children. Maester Aemon, with more than one sad shake of the head could not say otherwise. No one could. But, that does not mean they would be correct. 

It does not mean they would not be. Thinking of his children now, he finds that he does not want to be, not at all.

Still, he could not dismiss the prophecy, no matter how much he yearns he could. Gods, he wishes he could. 

He takes a calming breath. Then, he takes another for all nothing will ease his mind.

If not now, in the future there will be a struggle: a struggle against some enemy he does not know the nature of. 

For all that he had to fear prophesy becoming truth, and he fears it greatly, if this threat was for his children to face, he thinks there might be there will be time. Knowing that does not soothe him. If that is the best he can hope for, then it was a flimsy hope. It would not sound sweet to any sort of father and it does not sound sweet to him. 

It sickened him now thinking of how he once would have welcomed whatever came. What sort of man did that make him? Once he would have seen nothing but surety that he would be successful in facing the phantom threat, but, now…His children. 

He does not think he could sacrifice them so easily. All too well remembering Aemon’s words, he thinks he might have doomed them. 

He cannot think otherwise, not when he thinks of them and Elia’s letter. True to his word, Maester Aemon had produced the letter she had written. His older relation said her letter to him had been polite. Rhaegar knew his wife would not be otherwise though Aemon had only given him the letter addressed to him. He was keenly aware there was a difference in what familiarity she would allow in a letter to his older relation and what she would write to him. He remembers dreading to read it, even with Aemon’s encouraging, if expectant, expression staring down at him.

He committed the contents of her letter to memory before he left Castle Black, though he brought it to Eastwatch. He does not look at it. He cannot bring himself to read it again.

It was not as though the letter contained anything particularly shocking or surprising. It did not make her words any easier to read. As he expected she wrote about the goings on and squabbles at Court and how Oberyn was a father to yet another girl, this time the mother actually being his wife. She also wrote about how as far as she knew Lord Arryn had no plans of returning to King’s Landing. It was oddly comforting knowing Jon showed no sign of dreading the same news; and yet, it only reminded him that the presence of a Hand was no excuse for the absence of a King.

The letter, however, was dominated by other personal matters, primarily their children. Viserys, it seems, still enjoys dragging Rhaenys into mischief. Elia also wrote about how Aegon and Jon had taken to running around, leading her and their nurses to chase after them. Daenerys, Elia claims, looks more and more like his mother and has begun to speak and had taken to trying to follow the older ones whenever opportunity struck. 

He cherished each tale she briefly recounted, but, they only serve to remind him of where they were and where he was. He missed so much already. The last time he had been away he missed Aegon’s first steps and words and Daenerys’ birth entirely. Now he was missing more still. 

A voice, suspiciously so much like Oberyn’s, and of course when it was in recrimination it is nearly always that voice, reminds him that he chose to be. 

It does not help that he keeps remembering the simple words at the beginning of the letter where she enquires about how he fares and at the end of her letter where she says she misses him. She had been dubious this venture of his. He remembers all too well she had been dubious about the last one. Had his wife been anyone else he would imagine there would have been words about hoping he found what he sought and an implication that he should come home soon. 

When he first went back to King’s Landing, Jon in hand, he said that was to be it that he was done with all of this. He promised her. Just by being here, he broke that promise. For all that he has a good reason, he continues to break his promises to her. Somehow, reading her words was worse than if the entire letter had been a harangue though there was nothing of the sort put to voice in this letter.

Watching the waves crash about the rocks beneath him, he thinks does not deserve any of her words, not with the letter he wrote back to her.

He wrote about how when he first took in the sight of the Wall and the men, or rather, the lack of them at Castle Black, he recognized he had not done his duty well to this part of the realm and so he chose to remain behind. He had to, but, what he would do he was unsure of.

Once he would have prided himself in knowing exactly what to do and being able to do whatever he put his efforts into. There had been little that did not come to him easily. 

That has not been true for some time. It is still difficult for him to accept, but, this…

A horn blares off in the distance. 

Minutes later there is shuffling behind him. It was Arthur. Most just leave him alone, except Arthur who has taken to looking at him worriedly more often than not. 

“The man who sounded the horn thought he might have seen a wilding.” 

Incredulously, he queries, “Could have been a wilding?”

Arthur shakes his head ruefully, “Others believe it could have been an animal or an illusion.”

Arthur does not have to say the rest for Rhaegar to know his thoughts. It could have easily been nothing at all save for the madness which comes from having to the same tedious activities day after endless day.

He tries to stifle the laughter which threatens to bubble up, lest someone think him madder than they already do. However, he and Arthur are alone and Arthur also looks as though he wants to laugh. Instead his friend just shakes his head bemusedly, as if to indicate he should not be surprised. 

In fact, he was not, and so he turned his gaze back to the grey walls behind him him all he can think of was that he forced himself to leave his family for this. 

He wanted to come to the Wall, convincing himself he needed to because he had a duty to his family. Now he feels as though by staying he was failing at the same duty.

A bitter smile twists at his lips. Aemon, still at Castle Black, helpful with his books, and pointed advice, would likely find some humor in that.

* * *

“I do not believe him.”

Elia’s eyebrows nearly reach her hair at Viserys’ outburst. Rhaenys pipes up, “Who, Uncle?”

“Maester Aemon.” Viserys harrumphed. Aegon turns to Viserys, curiosity etched in his expression. Elia nearly laughs aloud. Her son has obviously thought they were speaking about him. She supposed it was inevitable, many Targaryen’s names sound so similar. However, just as quickly, her son returns his attention to the nurse who had been telling him, Jon, and Daenerys some sort of tale. 

Her amusement, too, dies quickly enough after that. How can it not when Aegon looked so much like Rhaegar in that moment? 

She catches herself trying not to sigh. As with any thought of the Maester now, it only serves as another reminder that Rhaegar was with him. Rhaegar should be here, not there. 

Remembering those letters received from the Wall tucked into a drawer in her rooms she knows she does not have an answer to the one question she wants answered, but, she has to give Viserys something lest he go seeking some for himself. It’s times like these that she misses Rhaella so very much. She would have known what to say.

For now, looking at Viserys’ expectant face she knows she has to give him something. There was no one else save for her to ask. She thinks back to the letter she received from Maester Aemon. Courteous as it had been, it was a letter from a Targaryen prince no matter how many years he has been a man of the Night’s Watch and a man of Oldtown before that. 

“Maester Aemon would not lie to you.” Never lie, but, evade and obfuscate if it meant doing what he thought was the ideal course of action to complete his aims. With a pang she recognizes Rhaegar was the same way.

“Rhaegar said not to ask such questions. Why would he say that unless there is something he does not want me to know?”

“Perhaps it is because there is nothing more to know. Your brother is very wise. You should listen to him more often.”

Crossed arms and a mulish expression greet her. “Rhaegar is not here.”

He looks almost shamefaced at her sharp intake of breath. _No, he is not._

Looking at her worryingly, he leans close and pats her hand. “Why would anyone not want to be king if they could?” Rhaenys, upon hearing this well-traveled topic, shrugs. Elia wishes she could do the same, but, she welcomes the change in subject as obvious a ploy as it was. 

Though she knew it was more for her benefit, and while it warmed her, a child like Viserys should not see it as his responsibility to comfort her. Still, she grateful it was this sort of question which plagued Viserys; very unlike those which plague his older brother. To inject any levity, she asks pointedly, “Do you have any plans I should know about?”

The tension in her subsides when he replies, “No” and the word is accompanied in a whine she would have never thought a Targaryen would have ever been capable of.

There was no question in her youth when Doran had been nine years her senior, but, she could not say she never thought about what being born earlier would have meant. She doubted Maester Aemon was entirely truthful, but, she suspected he thought gave a reasonable sounding reply. Much to her chagrin it had been a reasonable reply save for the recklessness of a curious child. 

“He gave you the reasons for his actions and they were logical ones. He felt it was his duty to join the Night’s Watch. That is all that matters.” 

And, gods she almost chokes on the words. Duty above all else; just like Rhaegar. Rather than highlight the similarities between Maekar’s third son and her husband, she ventures, “I would have you remember that it was a very personal thing you asked and it was very kind of him to answer at all.” 

For a moment she gets a mulish look again, but, then, Viserys nodded unhappily. But, the sly look she gets afterward immediately puts her on her guard. “What did Maester Aemon write to you?”

She nearly snorted in relief, “That is between Maester Aemon and me.”

He crosses his arms, just like Rhaegar when someone in council told him he did not want to hear. The pout on his face, however, is nothing like his brother’s; Rhaegar Targaryen did not pout. “I told you what he wrote to me and it cannot be that private if Maester Pycelle reads all the letters.” 

Much to her chagrin she nearly laughs aloud. She would never tell Viserys how clever she thinks he is. It would only encourage him. “If I recall correctly, you volunteered information I did not ask for. A prince should be careful to know the difference.” 

However, Viserys looks as though he was going to say something more. To head off the imminent argument, she replies, “Speaking of Maester Pycelle, I believe there were certain passages he set for you to read.”

With another childish groan he gets up to go to his chambers to collect those books. Naturally, Rhaenys asks if she can go along. Elia agrees though she nearly regrets it when the other three children take her acquiescence as permission for them to follow. 

Once ensuring each child is where they should be she returns to her rooms and immediately goes to the bureau she kept her letters in. Carefully she pulls out one of the two she received recently.

The first part of it makes her smile. Rhaegar used to complain about how dusty and cramped King’s Landing seemed; now he complains about the desperate cold and vastness of the North. The other portions of the letter do not lend themselves to humor and she would not be able to find any even if it had been present. 

Rhaegar, then, goes on to describe Maester Aemon. Rhaegar called him as old and wise, which she expected. But, then he calls the man severe and surprising. She frowns slightly, remembering how nothing in the letter explains what he meant by that. He had said the Maester forced him to think of things he previously had not, but, had not elaborated at all. In the Maester’s letter to her, the man simply stating there were concerns he wanted to address with her husband. It frustrates her how similar, how guarded, they were in certain respects. 

The part of the letter which disturbed her most were where Rhaegar describes the wall as something entirely unexpected. He had been at Castle Black when he wrote the letter, but, she knew he was going to venture to the other keeps though he did not say which he was going to see first. As for Castle Black, like the Wall itself, he described it as a grand structure. He also called it ‘undermanned’. It is something he needs to change, he said. It was then she knew. When she first read the words she felt her heart twist.

Necessary changes require proper attention and time. She understood his reasons for going to the Wall even if she did not share his thoughts. She could not, never when it came to that terrible prophecy. She could even understand wishing to stay at the Wall for longer. The part of her which knew herself to be Queen understood that duty all too well, but, she was more than just Queen. It was selfish of her, but, the part of her which was of a wife and a mother wanted her husband back as soon as possible. 

Though it is only a piece of parchment the weight of it is heavy in her hands. Her heart is not any lighter because she reads the same words again. 

She feels to shortage of relief when the Hand was announced. It was far too easy to willingly put that letter away. 

She pasted on a smile when Jon murmurs a polite greeting. She should not be so grateful for the distraction his presence provided, but, she was. These days she was grateful for any sort of distraction.

Still, even before she finishes pouring glasses of wine for the both of them and offers him some fruit the relief from mere moments ago faded away quite thoroughly.

Jon claims he wanted to discuss council business with her. She readily agreed, grasping for anything to take her mind off of Rhaegar, but, she knew, just as he did, that council business was a pretense for the both of them. Jon rarely forced his company on her for no reason and she knew there was no urgent matter or disturbance the council would be concerned about; not when the last meeting was called two days ago. 

No, this was about Rhaegar though Jon would not say his name and neither would she. She knew it was his manners and pride preventing him asking directly in the same way it prevented her from asking Rhaegar the same questions. 

When that letter came she knew she had to tell the council about Rhaegar’s delay. She revealed Rhaegar’s plans to stay behind at the Wall for a thorough examination. The council knowing Northern ambivalence towards King’s Landing, accepted it. With Jon, though, was a difference. 

She might be a Queen and Jon might be the Hand of the King, but, for how long would those titles matter if the King remained away?

But, she was not just thinking as a queen, just a woman who wanted her husband home.


	24. Chapter 24

‘It is strange to be home again’, Rhaegar muses as he enters the nursery for the first time in months.

Despite their token protests, he waved Ser Brynden and Arthur away. He kept them long enough from their regular duties and if Arthur was any indication, gave both of them worries they would have rather never had. Surely, Rhaegar insisted, he did not need protecting from his own children. 

Only the first face he sees does not belong to any of them, it belonged to Ser Lucas. Obviously surprised at his presence, the knight frowns, yet, his face returns to blankness swiftly. “Your Grace, welcome back!”

Before he could say anything, Aegon greets him with a screech. “Papa!” 

His lips twitch briefly. Then his eyes catch the expressions on faces of the other two children in the nursery. Though it was such a long time ago, he remembers too well Rhaenys’ fear and Aegon’s confusion the last time. Trying not to feel disheartened, he wonders what else would greet him besides Jon’s and Daenerys’ solemn faces contorted in surprise and uncertainty. 

Clearing his throat, he addresses one of the matters he could do something about. “Where is my daughter, Ser Lucas?”

The youngest of his Kingsguard smiles. “Your Grace, the practice field, I imagine or at least heading towards it. Prince Viserys can be quite insistent when he wants to be.” 

He must look as nonplussed as he feels because Ser Lucas elaborates, “It is quite usual for her to join him in this these days.” The knight laughs as though he finds this absolutely charming. 

It was not the closeness of his daughter and brother which grips him like a vice, it was the casual cheerfulness in Ser Lucas’ tone. 

A laugh very much like Maester Aemon’s echoes in his head. To stifle it, he prompts, “How are my brother’s lesson’s coming along?” 

If he heard the possessive edge to his emphasis on ‘my brother’s’ Ser Lucas learned enough about King’s Landing ways to give no indication. Instead, Ser Lucas expression brightens further. “Quite well.” 

Rhaegar’s jaw twitches at the younger man’s proud look. The knight probably was likely heavily involved in Viserys’ education. Ser Lucas used to trail around Ser Jaime often enough to warrant the possibility.

He tries to stifle his irritation. It was his absence which allowed for the latter the first time and this, the second.

Because he does not respond further, the knight takes his silence as permission to begin describing Viserys’ training in greater detail. Soon after his eldest son plops down in front of him to sit against his knee. Jon and Daenerys finally draw close to sit down, but, nowhere near as close as Aegon does.

Aegon, and Jon, to a lesser degree, begin prompting Ser Lucas for specific retellings which the knight’s eager acquiescence demonstrate this to be a routine exercise, one he is painfully aware he has no part in.

* * *

Taking in the sight of Viserys trading blows with a lad, a Brune, if his memory serves correctly, Rhaegar wonders if he should not have come to watch. It being far from an ugly sight makes the sentiment stronger.

Viserys was exactly as the satisfied Ser Lucas described; bright-eyed, self-assured, and quick.

His brother was also more than half a foot taller, thinner in the face, and more sturdy than he remembered.

Watching Viserys, with Ser Jaime standing at attention, makes for a very jarring change, one where he begins to see a future where a similarly looking and one not so similar boy might move in similar ways. 

It is both a comfort and not one.

So intent on his own thoughts he was almost surprised at the way Rhaenys, unlike her brothers and aunt, showing no hesitation, launches herself at him. 

For the first time since he arrived he laughs fully. Then he moves to pick her up. She too has grown and his effort was without the ease he managed once. Even when she cuddles close he mourns how it does not quite feel the same. 

Viserys, noticing the commotion, greets him with an odd look and a simple, “Brother.” Last time there was a cheerful shout and embrace from Viserys. Now there was just a restrained half smile after his brother shares a nonplussed look with Ser Jaime and practiced bows from both.

Now Viserys frowns at him. “I was unaware you had plans to return today.” 

His brother does not even come to his shoulder and he speaks in a tone implying he has such a right. On one hand, Rhaegar supposes Viserys was correct, on the other, annoyance flares in knowing his absence gave Viserys the right.

Before he could say anything he notices the equally curious look on Ser Jaime’s face only for the expression to morph into an easy smile. Idly he thinks he discovered where Ser Lucas learned the skill. 

Then the gaze of those green eyes floats over to Viserys. “My prince, come now, what had Her Grace said?”

Viserys motions to himself, indicating the spots of dust splotching his clothing, “This is not how I wanted to greet His Grace.”

Rhaenys giggles and a snort erupts from somewhere behind Viserys. Viserys glares half-heartedly at the ‘offending’ dark haired boy. 

He blinks. Renly Baratheon, standing next to a brown haired boy of a similar age, notices his attention and quickly moves towards a man who looks very much like this unknown boy. 

What was Renly Baratheon doing in King’s Landing? 

What else in the in the name of the gods has he missed while he was away?

Rather than make the younger Baratheon or the boy uncomfortable he shifts his gaze towards the man. He was older than Rhaegar by some years and had common features and a gloved hand. The memory struck: Lord Baratheon’s smuggler knight. 

His study of the man is broken by the sound of Ser Jaime clearing his throat. “All this, my Prince, is proof that you are applying yourself as princes ought.”

Confused, he turns sharply back to the knight, but, the words were meant for Viserys not him.

Watching Viserys smile agreeably at Ser Jaime makes him think he perhaps he should have sent word how close to King’s Landing he had been if this was going to be the result. Because of the feeling, he answers Viserys’ earlier remarks. “I only arrived not so long ago. I have only been to the nursery and then to the chambers of the Small Council and then I came here. From what I have seen, you have been doing quite well.”

“I practice daily.” Ser Jaime clears his throat pointedly. Viserys colors slightly and straightens, adding, “Thank you, Brother.” 

To his consternation Viserys turns back to the knight, as if to say, 'I did what you wanted'.

Seeing it, he feels no shame in directing to Ser Jaime, “Perhaps lessons should be cut short for today.”

At least one thing goes right when Ser Jaime’s nods agreeably and Viserys truly smiles at him.

Still, he has to tell himself not to be so relieved when his daughter and brother agree to his waving away their retainers on the way back into the Keep. 

He remarks, “You’ve both grown quite tall.”

Viserys holds himself more upright. Rhaenys gives him a verbal answer. “Papa you have been gone for months.”

The thought struck him deeply especially because he cannot deny his daughter’s words. Viserys’ frown tells him the same truth Rhaenys had. “Yes, that is so.” 

Viserys begins cautiously, “What is the Wall like? Besides cold.”

While relieved at the change in topic, his brows furrow at the odd question. As if to explain, Viserys says, “Everyone says that each time I ask.”

Rhaenys points out in a tone Rhaegar thinks is an approximation of reasonable, “Then stop asking, Uncle.”

Inexplicably, Viserys pouts and pokes her in the side. “Not the point.”

Before he can get in a word edgewise, Rhaenys does a most unladylike thing and sticks her tongue out at Viserys. “Then, we should get to it.”

The exaggerated sigh and roll of his eyes makes him think Viserys might sprain his face. Despite the odd behavior it fills him with relief that his children can still act as such. 

But, his relief is short-lived with Viserys looks back at him again, asking, “What is Maester Aemon like? Elia will not tell me anything beyond ‘he seems wise and kind’.

Remembering Aemon’s words of wisdom along with his of condemnation, Rhaegar can only reply, “He can be”.

Seeing the odd looks Rhaenys and Viserys share, Rhaegar is reminded of something he wanted to address. “He told me you wrote asking him questions. I thought they were rather impertinent ones.”

Rather than look shamefaced, Viserys retorts, “If he thought them impertinent, I think he would have said so and refused to answer.” 

He takes a calming breath. He only just returned. He is above getting into an argument with his brother over this or at least he should be. “It still does not mean you should ask.”

Rhaenys looks at him confusedly. “But, Papa, you went all the way to ask Maester Aemon questions.”

He ignores the triumphant look Viserys sends his way. “I also thought it best to tour the ream and I had to meet the Northern lords.”

Viserys, by virtue of being older than Rhaenys and knowing more about the circumstances, snorts and adds, “Lord Stark sent Elia a letter. She responded already.”

If there was a reason for Viserys to mention this, it escapes him. “Is that right?”

Rhaenys nods. Then, Viserys went on, “She got a letter nearly every other week, you know.”

No, he did not know, but, he suspected dispelling information was not Viserys’ aim. “Did she?”

Now, Viserys’ expression turns serious. “She got many letters since you left.”

He had written, but, was Viserys’ point of this that he had not written enough? At the thought he stiffens. “What were those letters about?”

This time, Rhaenys pipes up, “Mother does not let him read her letters.”

It was obviously an old argument, because Viserys harrumphs, “I am the oldest. Taking care of the family is my duty.” 

His brother crosses his arms across his chest and gives him what might pass for a stern look in a few years. “It was not as though it was some big secret. Most everyone wondered when you would return.”

Pressing his lips together, he hopes his face does not color. He did not set out to make things difficult for anyone, let alone his family.

“Well, I am here now.” He tells himself not to be more pleased than he ought to be when Rhaenys cleans closer into him.

“That’s true I suppose”, Viserys says in air which tells him things his brother does not say.

Despite his daughter clutching his hand and Viserys walking beside him Rhaegar does not wish to be in silence, not after that. “I see Lord Renly returned to King’s Landing. How did that come about?”

Rhaenys laughs. Viserys, in a gesture much older than he ought to have, quirks a brow. “He came with Lord Stannis.”

Obviously that had to be the reason, but, Stannis Baratheon would not be in King’s Landing for mere whim. Lord Baratheon disliked being here. Was it because no one was expecting him so soon the Stormlord took his chance?

As if he asked the question aloud Viserys elaborates, “Elia said a debate in the in the Dornish Marshes got a bit too exciting. Both Lord Tyrell and Lord Baratheon are in the city.”

He nearly groans. If there was one thing about King’s Landing he had not missed it was the endless bickering. 

Viserys informs him, “They might be in today’s meeting because we are not.”

Rhaenys nods. “Lord Jon looked very unhappy this morning.” 

He frowns at his daughter’s aside and an unusually stern Viserys changes the subject again. “We should talk about something else, Rhae.”

This time, Rhaenys pokes Viserys in the stomach. “Can we can tell Father about Ser Jaime taught us today?” 

With his daughter eagerly contributing details, a more seemingly at ease Viserys begins dutifully recounting, in great detail, exactly that.

Much like with the scene in the nursery Rhaegar is both pleased and not. While seeing once again the children are healthy and hale, he cannot be completely at peace because he still must listen to what he missed. Once again, he recognizes what grips him is not only how he missed these things, but, that he chose to.

* * *

Stepping into the corridor housing the meeting chambers of the Small Council he imagines the sight he would see when he gets to the doors. The smile does not quite reach his eyes when he opens them to see the reality within. 

Where he believed Elia would be seated at the head of the table with Jon and Ser Gerold flanking her with Pycelle on Ser Gerold’s other side, perhaps another member of the council or two, in truth, there was only one person present: the servant banking the fire in the grate. 

He coughs and the woman turns to him wide eyed. “Your Grace- I didn’t-I wasn’t-”

Rhaegar holds up a hand to forestall more of her stuttering. Hearing more of it will not help him see Elia any faster. Once again he cursed not having sent word of his impending arrival. “Yes, I see the council meeting ended already.”

She laughs nervously, “Some time ago.” 

Some time ago and she was still here? He does not question it. Because she was smiling, or at least trying to, he almost asks her if she knew where his wife was but decided against it. Council meetings disbanded or not meant there was work to be done. Elia’s letters had not included much of the unnecessary and so, he was not as well versed in everything regarding the current state of the realm outside of the lands he ventured through.

Nodding at the woman with her “nearly finished work”, he turns and exits the room.

* * *

Rhaegar stares at the man before him. “Jon, my friend, have you been denying those who clean entry?”

Jon looks up at him from the desk with many papers and tomes strewn across it and smiles, something akin to relief flitting across his face.

Then, Jon points at the mess and sneers in his direction, “My dearest King, you call me friend, yet, it was you who left me with this mess.”

Rhaegar tilts his head, considering. “I was only gone for a matter of months.”

Then Jon frowns at him. “After what I have gone through in your absence perhaps I ought to be.” Remembering what Rhaenys and Viserys discussed earlier Rhaegar almost believes the umbrage, but, then Jon’s lips twitch as he gets up to clap a hand on his shoulder. “It is good to see you.”

Still, guiltily Rhaegar worries, “It cannot have been that bad, has it?”

Jon immediately growing serious causes him to stiffen. “Jon, what is it?”

As if to steady himself, Jon turns away and takes a breath before looking back at him. “Lord Arryn is not coming back.”

In surprise, he blinks, “What?”

Jon nods, looking quite severe. “He had a son. Jasper. It was a hard time for his lady because the child came too soon. He does not want to leave the Eyrie now.” 

“Elia had not written about this.” Elia would have, but, then doubts begin to fester. If Jon can feel even the slightest vexed and if what Viserys says about the myriad of letters to be true then…

Jon shakes his head making a dismissive gesture. “We only found out two days past.”

“Oh.”

He nearly blurts, “You will stay, won’t you?”

Jon looks down at the mess around him. “Is there anyone else you wish to have the post?”

“No, however, if you truly do not wish to stay I will not keep you.”

Jon shakes his head, “That is not necessary. I will stay, provided you do.” 

He was almost alarmed by the fervency in Jon’s voice, but, with Viserys words still haunting him, he nods perhaps more sharply than he intended. “Good, that’s settled then.”

Waving away the offer to drink, he asks, “So you have seen her?”

Jon looks confusedly at him, “Who?”

Now he almost reddens for an entirely different reason. “Elia.”

First there was incredulity, then Jon smirks. “How have you not seen her?”

“I have been trying to since I arrived.” 

Jon throws his head back and laughs. This does nothing to improve his mood. It feels like an eternity when Jon sobers. “My King, I apologize, but, what do you mean you have not seen her?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean exactly that.”

Because Jon’s brow furrows he goes on to explain, “I keep missing her.”

The furrow grows deeper, “Truly?”

He nods, “I went to the nursery first. Ser Lucas tells me she already left. He only admitted to the possibility of her returning to the nursery before retiring for the night.”

“After that, I went to the training yard.”

Jon nods absently. “She would not be there, not today.”

Confused, he wonders, “What do you mean?”

Jon makes some vague gesture. “Often enough the Queen laments how little she gets to escorts Prince Viserys, and Princess Rhaenys if she chooses to go along, unless Ser Jaime or Ser Lucas are unavailable and if there is no urgent matter for her to oversee.”

At that reply, Rhaegar gets up and pours himself some water. It is bad enough Jon has to tell him of the schedule his wife keeps, but, that it is one she would not keep if he had been here makes him feel worse about creating the circumstance.

“Then I went to the chambers of the Small Council.” 

Jon nods. “And it was a short meeting.”

“The girl tidying up afterwards said as much.” 

At that, Jon snickers a bit. His friend only subsides because the glare Rhaegar gives him.

When he sits down again, he continues, “At least that explains why I did not see her there. I, however, did see Renly Baratheon and Lord Stannis’ smuggler knight.”

Jon makes a face, and in a close approximation of Lord Stannis’ voice responds, “Ser Davos Seaworth.”

Distractedly, he asks, “Is that his name?”

Jon nods. “Aye, good man from what little I have seen of him, past history notwithstanding, but, I take it he is not what you wish to discuss.”

“Viserys mentioned something about the Dornish Marshes.”

Jon closes his eyes and pinches his nose. “Ah, yes. The latest farce. Do not worry overmuch. The matter, or at least this particular one, is resolved now.”

He still frowns. While what Jon says may be true and he has no reason to doubt it, he still wonders about Stannis Baratheon’s electing to come here. That Jon calls it the ‘latest farce’ is another worry. “Tell me about it anyway.”

Jon sighs, “An inheritance dispute. A master of Keep died and had no issue or close family for that matter. Both potential claimants, one a Stormlander and the other a Reachman obviously, were kin only by marriage and of an equal relation to the man, to boot. It got so bad it resulted in blows between the both of them and it escalated from there. Because the damned Keep is in the Marshes…”

He nearly groans. “What happened then?”

Jon snorts. “Naturally because it is about the Marshes anything the Queen or I would decide neither Baratheon nor Tyrell would be satisfied by.”

“Why not?”

“That it was a matter before the Queen-” Jon cuts himself off, looking almost as red as his hair. ‘And not the King’ is the thought Jon leaves unsaid.

Rhaegar looks away for a moment. He wants to be angry, but, it can only be directed at himself. He had known the possibility might arise and thought it worth setting aside. 

“Unfortunately, given that the Keep is in the Marshes, with the Queen’s heritage...” 

Jon does not even try to finish the sentence, not that there was a need. When the Hand speaks again, his tone is shades too strident. “Of course, both Tyrell and Baratheon still mistrust me as well.”

Never before is he grateful for hearing something that has him more nonplussed. “What?”

This time, Jon snorts in derision. “Quite. It’s not so open, but, obviously, Tyrell thought I would side with Lord Stannis because we are from the same lands and Baratheon believes that I would side against him because-” 

Once more looking horrified, Jon cuts himself off. It takes him only a moment to realize what Jon stopped himself from saying. 

He takes an uneasy breath. The war and Robert. He takes one more breath. 

He fights to push back the thoughts of Aemon’s admonitions and yet as he knows from experience the sting of memory might fade, but, the contemplations will never vanish completely even if they go unacknowledged. “What then?”

Thankfully, Jon’s shoulders relax, if only slightly. “Let me just say the Queen and I were glad to have learned each man had children of a marriageable age and even more thankful they were ones who did not seem put out by the prospect. Neither claimant nor liege-lord could argue against giving the damned thing to the wedded couple.” Though the sound had a very brittle quality to it, Jon even laughs.

He blinks. “So, it did end well enough, but, that does not explain why Baratheon and Tyrell thought to intervene.”

All too soon Jon looks uncomfortable again. “It would not be the first time men thought of a pretense.”

Pretense? The answer does not elude him and his stomach twinges unpleasantly at yet another example of his lack of foresight. Instead he says, “Both men have accepted it. That is something.”

Jon snorts. “And they both hate each other fiercely with no sign of it changing.”

Once again he is marginally grateful for the distraction away from his guilty thoughts. “The fathers or their liege-lords?”

It’s no shortage of relief when Jon’s lips twitch in true laughter. “Both sets.’

Rhaegar nearly laughs, but, he asks another question. “And what exactly does that have to do with why the younger Baratheon is here?”

Jon shrugs. “The Queen informed me can gather the Prince and younger Baratheon kept up writing to one another. It is likely the boy took his chance.”

He frowns slightly. Stannis Baratheon never seemed to be the indulgent type and the last time…Rhaegar wonders once again if this willingness to be here and to allow his brother the same had to do with his own absence. “When are they leaving?”

“No later than a week, I think. The Queen would know more.” Jon shrugs again. 

He lets the matter drop. No doubt the Stormlord and the Reachlord will see enough of each other and him before the week is out.

Then, Jon looks at him speculatively. “The queen said something about an alms house earlier. She will likely be late.”

Frowning slightly, “She will not be in the Great Hall for the evening meal?” 

Jon shook his head. “More often than not, unless there was a special need to do so, she usually takes her meals with the children in the nursery, only the High Septon invited her to dine with him. It would not do to refuse.”

He holds back a frustrated sigh. It was a fair enough explanation, even if he dislikes it.

Then Jon pulls his lips into a sneer, “You truly want to see her?”

Something about Jon’s expression has him hissing out, “I have seen nearly everyone I wanted to besides my wife. Is there a reason why I should not want to?”

His glare hardens. Sneer gone, Jon was trying to not laugh at him. 

After Jon calms his expression turns craftier than he would have imagined. “I take it His Grace will not be taking any more extended forays into your other realms.” Despite the tone, it was not a question.

Eyes narrowing again, he wonders what happened while he was away for everyone he meets to begin acting like this. “What does that have anything do with my not seeing my wife?”

A thin smile forms on Jon’s lips. “Your Grace, I am simply suggesting it is good that you just returned from a long voyage and have no plans to take another one. At present, however, you left the kingdom in her hands. I think she would appreciate you letting her go about her business. You will see her soon enough. I daresay there will be plenty enough to distract yourself in the meantime.” 

Jon’s damned smile widens as he points to himself. “While you wait, you can continue to speak to me. I would not make for such poor company.”

Before he can get in another word, there was a knock on the door. A freshly scrubbed Viserys pokes his head in and inclines it towards Jon in a facsimile of formality Ser Jaime seemed to be trying to instill in him. 

“My lord Hand.” Viserys, then, turns to him, blinking, “Oh, hello again, Brother.”

“Viserys?” 

Evidently thinking nothing of his brother’s presence, Jon waves him in. “My Prince, I was not expecting you until later.”

Why would Jon expect his brother at all?

Viserys nods, closing the door behind him. “Maester Pycelle cancelled my lessons.” 

Turning towards him, smirking, Viserys snickers. “You might want to see him soon. He was more taken aback at your return than I was.” 

He holds back a sigh, determinedly ignoring the look on Jon’s face. Likely, Pycelle was another man offended he had not been notified of his presence. But, he does not feel the urge to rectify that, not with the odd scene of an eagerly expectant Viserys turning towards Jon. Wordlessly, Jon offers his brother sheets of paper who promptly takes them and plops into the remaining available chair, without Jon’s leave, scrutinizing the papers with a seriousness all too surprising.

The wonder must be plain on his face, because Jon explains, “Summary of the meeting.”

Not looking up from the sheets of paper, voice sounding slightly agitated, Viserys pipes up, “I could not go, but, I need know what was discussed.” 

“Why?”

Now Viserys rises his head. “It is important. Rhaenys is going to ask questions. She did not get to go either. She likes hearing my opinions.” For some reason he cannot begin to fathom Viserys was staring at Jon.

Now letting out a sigh, Jon glances at the ledger near him with a dubious expression on his face. He also takes up a writing tool, muttering, “My prince has become very wise.” 

Viserys puffs with a sense of entitlement a boy his age could manage. “Absence does not absolve responsibility.” 

He can only stare at Viserys in shock. “You do realize you are a child still.”

Viserys gazes at him like he grew a second head, then he grins slyly. “I am a prince. I have responsibilities even if I do not have a Solar filled with pending work.” 

“Just what are you hinting at Viserys?” 

Viserys chortles. While Jon’s bowed head lowers further, his snort is audible. Viserys chirps, “You have not been to your Solar yet have you?”

Seeing Jon’s lips twitch and Viserys eyes shining in childish glee, once more looking about the state of Jon’s Solar he decides not to ask.

* * *

While he sits he sips from his cup of Dornish red. Waiting. 

Despite the situation he finds himself in Rhaegar smiles ruefully.

All day, everyone around him was busy in their affairs, chasing whatever it was they sought.

For months he chased answers he had not found. He spent the day chasing; thus far his quarry remained outside his grasp. 

Chasing had always been his error. Trips to Summerhall, his obsession with the prophecy, trying to think of ways to mitigate the damage his father could cause, Lyanna, and going to seek answers from Aemon…Thinking he could chase had been his mistake. 

It was of no consequences now. What he sought, be it his children’s fate or his wife, will come to him. 

At the door’s creak he sets his glass down.

It’s been months and because Elia says nothing as she closes the door behind her only to lean he does. “As you can see I have returned.”

She smirks. “And bringing me all sorts of trouble.”

All day he has been thinking about how much trouble his absence brought her. With Viserys at his elbow, he saw the state of his Solar. And here she stands with the audacity to say it?

Though he makes no move to stand, his back straightens. “If anyone has been troubled, it is me. I have been looking for you everywhere.”

Her lips twitch upward. “I know.”

He rises abruptly. “ _You knew?_ You knew that I was here and that I was looking for you.”

She lets out a laugh and for a moment he is caught by the notion he has missed the sound dearly. Then, she says, “I did.”

Eyes narrowing, he presses, “And?”

She glances down and then back up at him. “And what? I would be a terrible queen if I did not know the king was in my city.” 

He is distracted by the sight of tip of her tongue poking out to moisten her lips. But, he is not so distracted because he nearly chokes. “Your city?” 

A smile plays at her lips. “In the absence of a king whatever belonged to him becomes the queen’s and the king was absent for months.”

Such gall his wife is capable of. “Perhaps so, but, what sort of queen does not come out to receive her king after he returns from a long venture?” 

“The proper kind.” She juts her chin forward. 

“What is so proper about such a queen?”

As if preparing to recite the long ago delivered lesson of a Septa she folds her hands in front of her. “A lady should never become so bold that they receive those who make no announcement about their arrivals or their intent to do so.”

Incredulous, he asks, “The presence of the newly returned king is not an exception?”

Even as he says this he remembers she had not come to receive him the last time. That had been different. There had been a war on and neither had not quite known the state of things between them.

Drily, she returns, “I was occupied.”

Frowning, he can only say, “I noticed everyone seemed to be.” 

A stray snicker leaves her lips. “Perhaps you should have sent word of your imminent arrival.”

Remembering how not one moment passed after he exited Jon’s Solar that the Lord Commander and Ser Barristan near accosted him with ill-concealed curiosity on their faces forces him to reply, “I have come around to thinking the same. But, that does not explain why you would be so occupied so much so that you deliberately missed my arrival.”

Much to his chagrin, her eyes widen in artificial concern. “It is difficult to miss the arrival of a king, even when he arrives through the Iron Gate.”

He advances upon her, voice deceptively soft, “You knew all the while and even how.”

For some reason he does not think to name it thrills him she does not move away. “I have just said so.” 

He braces his arms on either side of her body. “And not once did you think to come to me?”

She laughs softly. “I had much to do and there was more than one person here who expected my presence. To satisfy everyone would be far too strenuous.”

Remembering how every person he encountered thought his queries about Elia with ill-concealed humor, he growls, “What was so strenuous that you kept me waiting, _wife_?”

“I have many responsibilities, some strenuous and some not. If you are unsure of them because you have been away I do not know what to tell you, _husband_.”

A near silent protest he had ignored months ago and read all too much in her letters he hears all too loudly now. He takes her hand. “Do you know what I think?”

Looking very surprised, she whispers, “I cannot possibly think the thoughts of others.”

Because being uncharacteristically bold seemed to become the favored way of way of doing things in King’s Landing, he presses his lips to her hand and presses his cheek to hers. “I think you did not come to see me because you are vexed with me.” 

He is close enough to feel the tremor which goes through her. She takes a deep breath. “If anyone is vexed it seems to be you with me, my King.” 

He cannot help the laugh which spills out of him. Now it is ‘my King’? “Rest assured, my Queen, I am not, even if you are with me.”

For a moment all seemed well, then she lets out a sigh and moves to sit down, the look on her face is hesitant. “Did you find what you are looking for?”

Now he sighs for different reasons. “No.”

She presses her lips together and then, “All that time away and ‘no’?” 

About his children he found nothing he already had not known. Only now he admitted it to himself. He sits next to her though he makes no move to touch. “For the most part it was a fool’s errand. The only thing I found were other problems.”

Evidently, knowing what he means she inquires, “The Wall is truly that bad?”

Bad. Worse than he imagined. So much more. “It is not hopeless, but, it is bad. Of course, the Night’s Watch plays no part and they nearly expect the same with very few exceptions.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“Send more men and supplies to start. That they will welcome. Hopefully, things improve in time.”

“That is wise.”

He agrees. “For a beginning.” He takes a deep breath. "Are you displeased with me?”

For the longest time she says nothing. Then, she shakes her head. “You told me you wanted to go, that you needed to go and I did not argue. Why should I be angry because of that?” 

“And yet, you can be angry?”

She snorts. “I should be because you were gone for weeks longer than you promised.”

He sighs even as he takes her hand. “I returned as quickly as I could.”

Even before he feels her stiffen, he knew it was not an acceptable answer. “There will not be any more voyages. I am quite done.”

She pulls her hands away. “So you said once before.” 

It felt like a blow, only it is one he deserves. “I swear it, not again.”

She leans against him. “I missed you.” 

He put his arm around her. “I missed you just as much. More even. There was not one moment I had not thought of simply returning.” 

Then she chuckles softly, “I suppose that must be true.”

“Why?” 

“Because when you have you did so without a word.”

He smiles ruefully, “At last it was a small folly.” One in a long line of greater ones. 

She turns towards him, face full of confusion. “A small folly?”

Hoping to sooth her worries, tone light, he replies, “When I return the youngest of our children find me completely uninteresting while my brother makes far too many pointed asides and my wife remains away for the entirety of the day knowing I am here. Even Jon was laughing at me. What else is a man supposed to think?”

His effort is evidently working because she laughs. “Firstly, the Hand has not had the opportunity for much levity at all of late. Second, you ought to know Viserys makes pointed asides about nearly everything. I know they quite missed you and enjoyed your company today.”

He leans back slightly, and even with a faint smile which appears, he accuses, “You mean they enjoy mocking me.”

Elia laughs. “You are being too hard on them. The longed to see you.”

Still, the odd scene in Jon’s office was fresh in his mind. “I doubt that.’”

Eyes glittering, she says, “Oh? 

“Jon he spent much of our meeting muttering under his breath about recalcitrant lords while Viserys he spared less than a handful of glances from the notes from the meeting he was not allowed into to make pointed asides at not only me, but, Jon as well.”

She laughs again, this time the sound is indulgent. “Ah, yes, that childish possessiveness which has yet to dissipate.” 

Not understanding and even fearing what she might mean, he was hesitant to ask. “Possessiveness towards what?”

She chuckles again. “Our daughter.”

He blinks. “I do not quite understand.”

Shaking her head, Elia answers, “I think he fears her regard of Jon would impede on her adoration of him.”

Thankful he put the glass of wine down long ago, confounded, he queries, “Regard for Jon? Connington?”

Elia laughs again. “She finds him endlessly entertaining.” She adds, “It must be that red hair.” Her lips curl upward. “Well, that and the way he is nearly always nonplussed about how to act around her.”

Remembering how he had seen Jon’s easy laugh at his concerns about not seeing Elia, he cannot help the near growl which comes out. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Her eyes are full of mischief. “Oh, simply that such things have their own sort of appeal.”

Smoothly, he replies, “Such as the appeal to keep one’s husband waiting.”

She squeezes his hand. “That had not been my intention.”

“And yet you say you knew when I arrived and-"

Now looking disgruntled, Elia says, “I would have come to greet you, however, there was simply no opportunity.”

He arches a brow. “So it is not simply that you enjoyed keeping me wait?”

She glares half-heartedly then she sighs, “If only. Not long after a red-faced stable-boy nearly collapsed in front of me Tyrell arrived for an ‘additional word’. I did not want his exuberance for your return to turn into his insisting on an audience with you.”

Remembering Jon’s words about pretense he nearly cringes.

“By the time I learned you were with Jon nursery the Matron of the alms house arrived.”

He nods. “I was told you usually speak to her at great length.”

Elia nods tiredly. “She is one of the few heads of charity who rarely asks for money unless she absolutely thinks there is a need for it.”

He agrees, “A rare breed. What happened after?”

Shaking her head, Elia continues, “I went to see the High Septon. Of course, in between I heard the terrible row between the Steward and the Chamberlain struck up again.”

Incredulous, he asks, “Row?”

Elia chuckles. “They only speak through intermediaries now.” At his look she sighs. “They will do this for a week and someone will tell them to do what I wanted to tell Lords Baratheon and Tyrell.”

“And what is that?”

“To go to a tavern, drink their fill, and pummel each other to their hearts content.”

Eyes wide, “What?”

She almost looks hopeful at the prospect. “It’s what the Steward and Chamberlain want.”

“How do you know this?”

She shakes her head. “Because that is the same thing, without fail, the cook has been telling them every other week since you have been gone.”

Even more shocked, he has to question, “And you have done nothing about it?”

She frowns, “If it affected their work I might have; only, it does not.” 

It is when her expression turns sly he believes he discovered a cause of Viserys’ lack of repentance. “But, if it means so much to you, by all means, intercede all you wish or dismiss one or both. Just keep in mind, they have both served this house for many years.”

He could only stare. “Now I know you are vexed with me.”

Her lips twitch. “How so?”

“Not only have I seen the mess made of my Solar, you would leave unpleasant tasks to me.”

She laughs. “Shall I prove to you that I am not?”

Mildly curious, he asks, “How would you go about doing it?”

She rises and steps back while making a show of considering something. Then: “It is quite late.”

“Yes, I waited a very long time to see you.” 

He should be ashamed of how much he reminds her of this, but, he could not be even if he desires to put for the effort.

She smirks as she goes to open the door to her boudoir. “I think it is well past time for me to retire for the night.” She turns her back to him and looks at him over her shoulder. “If you would be so kind I should like it if you would help with these laces. As you can see none of my ladies are here.”

Stepping closer to her, he recognizes that for the first time in a long while his face heats for reasons which have nothing to do with shame and embarrassment. 

After so many months, it is a welcome change.

When he finished pulling at the laces he followed her into the room where she removed the garment, leaving her in a plain shift. 

She drew herself closer to him and gave him a kiss. When he feels her fingers thread through his hair he could not restrain the sigh of contentment which fell from her lips. This, he missed very much.

It was too soon when she pulled away and settled herself on top of her bed. “Please, do one more thing for me.”

At that, he stopped moving to follow her and swallows. “Yes?”

A smile played at her lips, before, “Close the door on your way out, please.”

His thoughts came to an abrupt and undesired halt. “What?”

As if she was being helpful, in a cheerful tone, she adds, “No doubt, you are very tired. It was a long journey you had and as you said you had waited for quite a while. You should retire as well.”

Hoping he was failing to understands, he clarifies, “You say it has been far too long and the day I return you turn me away?”

She tilts her head to the side in a mockery of deep thought. Then, she smirks. “In the letter you wrote you stated you missed your own rooms. In your absence I have been in them infrequently, but, I do remember they are a most excellent set. However, there are many other rooms available to you, you are the king after all.” 

His jaw tightens. Playful as it was, Aemon might like Elia’s Dornish defiance, in this moment he cannot say the same. “What if I do not desire that?”

She smiles. “Tomorrow.” 

He steps closer to her. “What about tomorrow?”

He narrows his eyes as she leans back slightly and idly traces imaginary figures against her thigh. “You will get your proper welcome tomorrow.”

He growls, “And what if I want my welcome tonight?” 

He stops moving when she lifts her leg so that her foot rests against his calf.

Her eyes flash with something. “If you want your welcome tonight, you will want it tomorrow.”

Without trying the voice coming out of his throat is deeper than his usual timbre. “What if I do not want anything tomorrow?”

She smiles and rises to press herself near flush against him. ‘Damn her’, he thinks as he feels her hand brush against the fabric of his britches. 

“Oh Husband”, her voice drips silk into his ear. “I swear it…” He hisses at the more firm brush of her hand, “You will want to wait for tomorrow.”

He snakes an arm against her waist. “Why would you punish me so?”

“Punishments are what the Black Cells are for. We are nowhere near them.” 

Playing with the collar of his tunic, she smiles. The demureness of the scene false and intoxicating. “What is this if not punishment?”

He nearly lets out a groan when she smiles up at him, gaze heated. “I waited months for you. Can you not do me the courtesy of waiting a day?”

“I nearly waited this entire day. It is not very fair to make me wait more.”

“I do not mean to be fair.” He does not know if she could press any closer to him than she was already, but she tries. Oh, how she tries. 

He has to take a moment before responding. “What do you mean to do?”

“To remind you of what you missed so much that you do not think of leaving like this again.”

When she begins to pepper kisses along his jaw he lets out a far too unsteady breath. “I knew I wanted never to leave again the moment I stepped foot in the nursery.” 

He can feel the smile against his face. She whispers hotly into his ear, “That is very good of you, but, husband mine, you do not know what I mean. Trust me, wait for tomorrow and you will.”

A low growl rumbles in his throat and grasps both of her hands. “Then, I shall be here tomorrow morning.”

For the moment her eyes narrow, he revels in how he can surprise her. 

“Why so early?”

Almost without thought, one of his hands move to grip her waist again while the other rests against her neck. “I think I have been late enough in learning what I should know."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me heartily thank Sigrid_Martell who was kind enough to give this chapter and its multiple versions much appreciated look-sees.

Rhaegar picks up the shirt from a small pile sitting on the chair tucked in a corner. Too large for Viserys, let alone Aegon or Jon, it is clearly not for him. The embroidery, black upon yellow, tells him it is for no Martell either. 

By itself, Elia making shirts is nothing strange; the inclination and time for specificity is. 

When he hears the door creak, he throws the shirt back into the pile he found it in.

He forgets it entirely when she smiles at him at him hesitatingly.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, but, the dress…” She brushes a hand over the article in question in an attempt to smooth the unfamiliar fabric down.

The dress, deep purple and figure-hugging was a gift from the envoy from Lys. It is an outrageous piece even by Dornish standards. All the same, there is no reason insult his guests by refusing to let his wife wear it when they promised she would wear it tonight. After all, the sight of her in it is most agreeable. 

Too aware of what darker matters may cause Elia to be self-conscious, a smile tugs at his lips. 

“It is well worth the effort.”

A relieved look turns playful. Good, he thinks. Sauntering towards him, she puts her lips to his ear. “I had thought you tired of looking at me.”

“No.” He is not opposed to giving her a compliment if she had been after one, but, it had been some time since he felt he ought to. He would name her a liar, but, he knows the meaning behind her words all too well. He supposes it is a benefit of a marriage. It is equally a trouble. 

“I was concerned you would be.”

Elia presses herself closer and he embraces her. When they are expected in a few minutes, he should not allow the delay; yet, he does it. “How can you even say that?” 

Unconsciously, his grip around her waist tightens. He knows how she could.

_He rarely had the opportunity to experience what Griff once referred to as Elia’s attempt to be the “dragon on the throne”. Today, it accompanies ire directed towards Lord Arryn of all people. “I am not in the habit of betraying confidences.”_

_“This is no silly secrets between ladies.” He nearly winces. For all her talk of being less Martell now, a seething Targaryens prove to be far more dangerous._

_Lord Arryn, however, is not without the ability to give in to rage. “I ignorantly invited that craven thing into my home.”_

_“I understand your shock and dismay, however, it is not my place to disclose what Lady Arryn and Lord Tully had not.”_

_Elia knew Lady Arryn and Lord Tully kept something from Lord Arryn? Liking this less and less, confusion turs into vexation. What were they discussing?_

_“It would have been proper.”_

_With Arryn this furious, the mulish expression stamped across Elia’s countenance heightens his dread. “It is improper to discuss a matter when the result will surely be painful for everyone involved.”_

_Arryn returns, “I had every right to know.”_

_“My lord, you knew-”_

_Arryn roars, “Not who it was.”_

_With Lord Arryn all but waving his figure at Elia as if she was an unruly child, he almost intercedes, but, he does not. The sneer stretched across Elia’s lips, much like Oberyn’s at his worst, stops him. “You had abundant opportunities to ask about Petyr Baelish long before I learned the name. You chose not to take them.”_

_He grimaces before Arryn flinches. The deceased Lord of the Fingers is the subject of their contention? True, it was an awful thing for the man to fall prey to a band of brigands on his way to the Eyrie for a post Arryn offered the man, but, what-_

_He wondered at Ser Brynden’s embarrassment in discussing Riverrun’s former ward. Now he knows._

_Elia shakes her head as he does. “Go home, Lord Arryn. You ought to be comforting your wife about the death of a friend, not here.”_

_He gasps is masked due to distance and Arryn’s sound of disgust. “He was no mere friend.”_

_“There was nothing between them after she became your lady.”_

_Seeing Arryn’s face, he thinks playing at flagrant certainty is unwise even if true. Would it not be better for some time to pass so the man comes to terms with his wife’s secrets if that is what Arryn wanted?_

_To Elia’s stout reply, Arryn replies in kind. “She carried on as if she loves him still. Why should I have to contend with it?”_

_Elia, clearly, intends stubbornness. “You must contend with Lysa's sentiments. To try to avoid doing so by keeping away may prove to be to your detriment as much as hers.”_

_Fondness for Lysa Arryn, fails to explain Elia’s stance. Arryn obviously thinks similarly. “My detriment to be away from a liar? Pah!”_

_Hearing humorless laughter from the man who rarely laughs when feeling joy, he shudders._

_Elia’s lips purse. “Lord Arryn, be reasonable…”_

_Reasonable? What about this could be reasonable? Predictably, Arryn growls. “She recommended him to me.”_

_Grimly, he is aware that is more than reason enough to be angry._

_Elia, though, is undeterred. “They were not on speaking terms.”_

_Something to consider, even if slightly, but, then, Arryn snaps out, “So you said.”_

_Elia sighs, but, then her spine straightens. “Were you not twice wed before you took Lysa to wife?”_

_Lord Arryn was not the only one to stiffen at Elia’s statement. Oh, gods! Certainly, Elia was not…_

_Coming to the same conclusion, Arryn sneers. “Yes, I was. They were not. A great difference.” The ‘you know this’ goes unsaid._

_The line of Elia’s shoulders indicate it had not gone unheard. Dreading what else she would say, he is perplexed when her next words are: “Lysa wrote to me.”_

_A lengthy stretch of silence passes and Arryn, clearly tired, groans. “What did she write?”_

_Elia’s face twists into pity. He knows his wife. It is not for the Arryn before her. “The script ran together in multiple places due to wetness.” In the face of Arryn’s incomprehension, Elia adds, “She’d been crying when she wrote it.”_

_Arryn remains silent._

_“She feels guilty enough.” Elia is not quite begging, yet…_

_“She is guilty.” Arryn crosses his arms across his chest._

_Elia scowls. “Baelish is dead because he was on his way to your household at her request. You left angrily without explanation. She is frightened, alone, and blames herself enough.” Arryn, like him, hears, ‘Without you adding to her burdens.”_

_Unmoved, Arryn demands, “You expect me to forgive her.”_

_Seeing Elia’s expression turns grim, he grows more anxious. “I do not expect it to be easy. I know it can be done.”_

_“What would you know about it?”_

_Arryn’s sneer is less certain when Elia smiles sadly. “I know Lyanna Stark’s son lives in a room down the hall from my own chambers.”_

_Arryn is not the only one to flinch. It was obviously the opportunity she sought because Elia continues, “I know you are hurt she kept this from you. But, what would you have her do? You knew she was no maiden when you wed her. Learning who she gave her maidenhead should make no difference. What might have been fully died with Baelish. Let it.”_

_He shivers as his mind whirrs. What did she mean?_

_When Arryn’s shoulders slump Elia takes another gamble. “When you did it for men for battle and an heir, you took Lysa to wife. We both wed knowing there are benefits afforded. We are also beholden to promises. In giving your house a lady and you a son, she delivered upon hers. If, instead of being the comfort she would appreciate, if not grow to love you for, you turn into the villain she expects because you allow yourself to sink in the muck of what can never be, can you say the same? You are better than that or at least I hope you are.”_

_Brow furrowed, Arryn remains mute as he turns and walks away._

_Coming to stand next to Elia, he too says nothing. Instead he looks out to see Viserys out in the yard. Naturally, his daughter is there. The sounds of joyful youth fails to calm him._

_It is a relief Elia speaks first. “Playing the martyr does not suit our former Hand.”_

_‘Former Hand.’ The term comes as no surprise. Also, not surprising is her knowing he had been there._

_Elia would defer to his decisions, yet, no good comes from a Queen and a Hand being at odds. He is fully aware of the responsibilities he must shoulder and he has no desire to take up another endeavor without need. In one way it makes things easier and yet…_

_“Is he not justified?” It is not where he wants to begin, but, since this started with the Arryns, it is a good place as any._

_Elia frowns. “Young as she is and far from the first, when she does her duty to him, it is beneath a man of his stature to pout like a child because he is reminded of a ‘flaw’ he was fully aware of.”_

_A harsh assessment though he understands her meaning. If one entered into a pact with someone with supposedly known moral shortcomings one cannot claim to be duped when they act against one’s interest. It is a wise thought. It is also one providing terribly unpleasant reminders. And yet, “Baelish was on the way to the Eyrie.”_

_“He is dead.” That she does not seem to ignore how much of a travesty this could have been should be comforting. However, he is shaken for reasons with little to do with either Arryn or Baelish._

_“As is Lyanna.” Avoiding discussing Lyanna was impossible, but, it has been quite some time since they had. Why now? Why for this? Why at all?_

_“You should not have used Lyanna’s memory for this.”_

_She grows paler as she starts to shiver. She tugs at her shawl. He wonders if it is to cover her reaction or give herself time. When her words come out, they are unsteady. It is not particularly reassuring even if such a possibility of it being that existed at all. “I am merely one among many who could seek to use her memory for their own purposes.”_

_When anger could have, and perhaps should have, blazed, it barely flickers. Where pain and regret there is little room for fury, especially with the way apprehension rolls off of Elia who clearly expects his rage._

_It stings, but, properly used weapons are meant to. Weapons are weapons no matter who they are wielded by or aimed at. Remembering his time in those damnable crypts, he knows his foolishness allowed Lyanna to become a weapon for anyone to use. “So you reminded him what a true breaking of vows was?”_

_She flinches again. The side of her face visible to him is flushed a deep red. “No.”_

_There was no following explanation. He does not expect one. He needs it not. “You knew how it felt and still you took Lady Lysa’s part.”_

_Now, she turns to him. If anything, she looks more distressed. “I also know what it is have your husband leave you and the only answer anyone, even your mind, has to why he would are your own failures.”_

_He flinches even before he sees her reaching for his arm. A soothing touch after one takes a wound would be welcome and, yet, even for the briefest of moments, he thinks about pulling away._

_As if she could see into him, her face falls and her hand comes to an abrupt halt. She grips tightly on the bannister in front of her._

_He pushes down the bile which rose up in his throat. “That was my failure not yours.”_

_Despite his intentions, he sees his words fail to comfort her. Of course, they do._

_Elia looks away again. “And for me to continue to punish you for something that cannot be taken back could have been mine.”_

_Elia falls silent and he helps maintain it. There is little to say._

_He stares at her hand._

_This was never meant to be about broken vows. Nor was this about Lyanna or Petyr Baelish. One can try and drown themselves in tears and apologies or endlessly whisper the most fervent of prayers and in the end none of it will do very much for the dead. All anyone has is the living. All anyone can do is move forward._

_Years ago, he had done as he liked and used the past to build his future and the world burned for it. He remembers being at the Wall and feeling foolish for depriving himself of what he had here. There, he sorely missed his wife and children. He came back demanding more._

_Looking down to where all the children are now, he can hear their laughter from this height. Even when not pressed close as he knows they could be, he can feel Elia’s warmth._

_Making his choice, he covers her hand with his._

When her face slips into that thankfully familiar smirk, he releases the breath he had been holding. “Not a week ago passed when you did not even want to be seen on King’s Landing streets with me.”

Suppressing the wince at the memory of his choosing to read yet another letter from Maester Aemon, he takes a long, appraising look at his wife. “Going without me does not seem to have affected you negatively.”

How easily she laughs is a boon. “How shameless have you become?” 

When he snorts she nudges her elbow in his side. “And completely beside the point. You have been overly preoccupied of late.”

Between his traditional duties and the ones he insisted on taking on among other concerns, he had been more distant. 

At least Maester Aemon had written that his efforts were noticed. That was well and good especially when his last attempt at trying to find hidden meanings in the Maester’s letters found him miserable, if well informed. However, his inability to let things be has always been a weakness.

He let himself be consumed by the same duty and prophecy which destroyed his mother and father. It nearly ruined him and his family and so many more. It is still his folly to himself continue to be enthralled by which he should not give too much weight. But, he is resolved not to become mired in the past. To do so would cost him more than he is willing to pay.

He lets those thoughts slip from his mind as they arrive at the entrance to the ballroom chosen for tonight’s fete. 

He squeezes her hand. “I suppose it is a good thing you prepared for dancing this evening.”

She smiles. “Oh?”

“What better opportunity is there for me to dance each dance with you tonight?”

Now, she laughs, “While the prospect is more than agreeable…” Having her press against him again, the warmth on his face spreads until, “I am afraid that will not be possible tonight.”

Taken aback, he frowns. Hadn’t she just intimated- “Why?”

Her face constricts oddly. Seeing her smother a laugh, he is only mollified when she presses close again and takes his hand, giving it a squeeze. “The Lyseni envoy’s wife would obviously expect one and Lady Olenna has been asking for you.”

There was no sense in refusing either. He was not going to insult his guests and he certainly was not going to think of challenging the grand dame.

She looks at him slyly. “For my part, I will be too occupied.”

Not with the past or shirts, at least. “With?”

”The Lord Commander, of course. Lord Stannis also requested to engage me in one.” 

His feet, like his mind, come to a swift and unexpected halt. Stannis Baratheon? Seeing the usually sour-faced younger man across the corridor he quickly looks away, thoroughly doubting Elia’s words. The man who barely speaks to him unless necessity dictated it voluntarily asked his wife for dance? As far as he could tell, the last time he saw Stannis Baratheon dance was the man’s own wedding.

She shrugs. “Ashara probably put him up to it.”

He stops. Incredulous, he stares. Ashara was in Storm’s End and in no position to make her recalcitrant husband do anything. He supposes the man can be persuaded, but, if he put his mind to it…He shudders.

“What has my wife done now?”

Startled, he nearly jumps as Stannis Baratheon, eyes narrowed, bows sharply.

Elia _giggles_. “My Lord Stannis, I was telling the king you asked me for a dance.”

To his amazement, the younger man’s cheeks color, even when he is staring disapprovingly at her gown.

“It is nothing.” How unbending he sounds…That at least sounds like the man he knows. 

Blithely continuing, she says, “Perhaps so, my lord, but, is it not so you rarely engage in dance.”

Surely Elia was not- “Might I enquire how-” Lord Stannis pauses, grimaces more fiercely while concluding, “My wife.” 

She smiles as if the ferocity of the man’s flush does not match that of his frown. A mild reaction, he thinks. If Stannis Baratheon desired, any exchange could be unpleasant and heated. 

“Naturally, Ashara and I correspond, however, as have been blessed to host your august presence on many occasions to note such things is my prerogative.”

When the man opens his mouth to speak, he does it properly, if noticeably clipped. “As you say. For now, I beg your leave.” 

Elia smiles pensively in Baratheon’s direction. “It is quite sweet how much he loves Ashara. Pity he is so shy about it.”

Sweet? Stannis Baratheon? Though it was without effort once again he thinks of the Arryns. 

Saying nothing more, he relaxes when a distraction from the states of other’s marriages in the forms of Viserys and Rhaenys. He laughs at Viserys’ now rare, youthful squeak of indignation when Elia straightens his collar. Rhaenys, for her part, demands a dance from him, ‘After Lord Jon though’. 

Viserys sends Griff an accusing look before pulling Rhaenys after him and disappearing into the crowd. Deciding it was not worth it, he turns again to his wife. “I see you were right about dancing.”

She snorts. “I promised one to Lord Tywin.”

She nods distractedly, she was smiling at something behind him. “Ah, Ser Oswell, good. You are here.”

Oswell’s roguish grin is fully on display. “What am I a party to this time?”

Unhooking her hand from his, Elia explain, “I was going to tell His Grace of the dance I owe you.”

While wondering how that came about, Oswell bends to give Elia’s outstretched hand a kiss. Oswell cheerfully corrects, “Two, in truth.”

His eyes fly open as Elia and Oswell share a laugh. “How foolish of me.” 

The smile the knight gives his wife irritates him. Obviously unware of his thoughts, Oswell adds slyly, “Perhaps that would entitle me to three.”

Stunned by Oswell’s audacity, Elia’s merry contribution intensifies his reaction. “I doubt you could manage three.”

He frowns as Oswell, hand over heart, makes a show of pretending offence. He is less amused at Oswell’s boast, “I will. I cannot say the same for you, my queen.”

Annoyingly, Elia only rolls her eyes. “I know my steps.”

“True, but, if you try to prove it, I might have to take up a weapon.” Oswell raises gestures lazily with his sword arm.

“Oh?” 

His fists clench when Oswell leers at _his_ wife. “One false move in that thing you call a gown and they’ll want more than the eyeful they are sure to get. I can’t have that on my conscience.”

Elia snickers. “Quite a gallant man you are.” ‘Hardly’, he fumes. 

Oswell grins. “I have a white cloak to prove it.” 

Finding his voice, he sneers. “You are not wearing it now.”

“I know.” Oswell cheekily grins at him, turning to follow after Barristan revealing black bats on a yellow background.

Before he could demand to know when Elia became such fast friends with Oswell, she was cheerfully greeting an equally exuberant Lady Redwyne.

* * *

Rhaegar’s hand clenches from under the table. 

Elia’s hand brushed his thigh again. He had taken the first instance as the slip of her hand. Now he was thoroughly disabused of the notion. 

Mindful of the perpetual sternness of the man sitting across from him he tries restrain himself from reacting. Things go well when Tywin Lannister is pleased. His leave is imminent. It would be disastrous if his composure failed him now.

More than Tywin Lannister’s outrage was at stake. For the Lannister lord or Oswell to see him react works in _her_ favor too much. He cannot let his demeanor slip because he cannot control himself, or rather, his wife.

“Some more water, perhaps, my lord?” 

Elia, hand firmly gripping his thigh tighter, smiles at Lannister. The man’s practiced grimace eases by a miniscule amount and he barely holds back the groan threatening escape.

Even when not at their best with each other, he had not deprived himself the feel of her hands upon his skin. He certainly has no objection now, but, when she barred him from her rooms last night, today, her _timing_ leaves plenty to be desired. 

Why be playful now?

As she places her hand where it ought not to be, he barely stops himself from jolting in his chair. His skin feels feverish. She smiles at him sweetly. Damn her! She knew how much distress she causes him.

Returning her gaze towards Lannister, she purrs, “Are you certain you wish to leave on the morrow, my lord? To host you is always a pleasure.”

Damn her and her stalling! But, of course, the lion inclines his head, making a show of considering. Lannister is a fortunate man, he thinks as he represses a pleased shudder. The Warden of the West does not have to worry about a wife’s devious mind or hands. 

How no one notices how unsettled Elia’s attention makes him is a small mercy. It takes nearly everything him to keep still as Lannister eagerly, or as much the man allows himself to show, replies, “No, my queen. I waited long enough and you would not deny me the chance to see my grandchildren, my first grandchildren, when they are your kin as well?”

Now passing for suitably demure, she smiles bashfully. He would laugh himself sick at the display of feminine modesty most falsely attribute to his wife if he was not compromised. As it is, he can barely keep himself still under her assault.

Elia asks Tywin Lannister if he would agree to carry more gifts to little Gerion and Joanna all the while running her palm against the insides of thigh with a painstaking slowness. 

He exhales deeply for reasons with little to do with the accusing looks Tywin Lannister gives Elia.

“More gifts? You have already been generous…” 

Rhaegar barely contains his snort at Tywin Lannister’s attempt not to be outdone in gift giving.

Predictably, Elia’s shy smile is incongruous with what he currently experiences. 

“Not too much more, it is just I had thought to get these gifts, but, they were not quite finished to my desire. Isn’t that right Ser Oswell?”

He squints as his knight smiles at his wife. When did Oswell allow himself to be dragged to markets? Since when did Oswell Whent merit any part of his wife’s attention? His traitorous mind supplies, _‘Or shirts?’_

His squint becoming a glare is a near thing when Oswell volunteers more. “Quite right, the merchant had promised, but, certainly my lord is aware…” 

Ignorant of his thoughts, Elia smiles demurely and finishes, “One cannot believe in every promise even if one wishes to.” 

Trying not to think of what that is supposed to mean, he listens as a pinch-lipped, Lord Tywin replies, “I trust it was easy to find a different vendor.” 

Elia, dancing her fingers much closer to where they ought not to be, laughs softly. “Of course.”

Feeling the weight of her hand across his clothed skin is the only reason he finds himself agreeing with Lord Tywin’s attempt to reprimand Elia, or so he tells himself. 

He clenches his jaw tightly when the man, despite the suspicious gleam in his eye, agrees to Elia’s request easily. 

Of course, things would go her way. 

Her hand feels heavier on his skin even when he sees Oswell grin at his wife again. Gods knew the only reason Jaime Lannister was not underfoot because he was already in Dorne. Corbray was still quite young and susceptible. Tully, because of her continuing correspondence with his nieces, favored her as well. Aemon had not been immune. He’d seen the routinely arriving letters. Even Arryn, for all his bluster returned to the Eyrie with mostly good grace. Now Oswell, too, it seems, had fallen prey to his wife’s charm.

Still, he cannot say what brought this on. While this unabashed indecency is more like Oberyn, Elia was more Doran than anyone would admit. For all that this feels pleasant, the realization is entirely the opposite. He cannot help thinking if her purpose in driving him to distraction for nefarious reasons. Though such thoughts are preposterous, his wife was no innocent. 

He likes to think it is this knowledge alone which stirs a desire to be less yielding, but, this is not so.

He is a greedy man who always did as he liked. When he wanted to be well-read, he got himself books. When he wanted music he took up his harp. When he wanted to be a warrior, he took up arms. 

Remembering whispered words and fullest of touches and the true press of skin, trapped like this he wanted. 

This does not merely stoke the fires in him. It envelopes. It _burns._ But, what was fire to a dragon?

Mind made, he puts a hand on her traitorous one, pressing around her dainty palm. Her hand twitches violently in his grasp. She tries to shake it off. Because her attempt is gentle it fails. Her hand stiffens completely in his and it remains there. He nearly smiles.

After hearing her with Arryn, when he had taken her hand it had been a gesture of mending, one of determination.

This time, he took her hand for an entirely different resolution. The near smile threatens to turn into a smirk. 

He holds her hand still. When it finally softens in his, he begins to rub a finger slowly across the back of her palm. His smile widens into a smirk when his wife’s spine straightens. From under the table, she tries to wrench her hand from his discreetly while keeping her face trained on Lannister. He watches her attempt to conceal her reactions to him. She is far from steady. 

Her lips press together, but, she does not look at him. He knows she wants to. 

When she quickly offers to show Lord Tywin out, he nearly preens.

Laughter bubbles up. It is difficult to suppress, but, he manages, barely. Who ever thought of a sun which runs?

He lets her go and leans back in his seat. It is of little consequence if she manages to free herself from his onslaught now. Let her flee. He caught her before. Even if all he does is wait, he will catch her again. There is no sense in keeping himself from what was freely offered and since his wife decided to play games it is only right he answer in kind.

For now, this small victory leaves him unsatisfied. “My queen.”

Were this years ago, weeks ago even, his own audacity with Elia would have been cause for concern. In this moment, he is delighted with himself.

“My king?” There was a tremor in her voice; disguised, but, there. A small thing and it takes everything in him not to crow in triumph.

“When you have seen to Lord Tywin’s comfort, I should like to have your thoughts on the household accounts.”

Ever the picture of the modest wife, she bows her head sedately before shuffling Lord Tywin out the room without another word. Oh, but, the look she gave him. His laughter is loud in the silence. 

“Your Grace?”

Even if his thoughts are less than charitable towards Oswell of late, he understands well his knight’s confusion and possible alarm. But, Oswell lived with him and should know his ways. At least, he should remember Elia’s books had never been a point of interest for him. “Yes, Oswell?”

“It looked as though you were plotting for war.” 

Mind whirring with far more pleasurable possibilities, he has no thoughts of correcting his knight’s misunderstanding. 

“Oh?”

“But, you laughed?”

He rises. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” 

Uncaring of leaving a bemused knight in his wake, body thrumming with anticipation, he walks out of the room without another word thoughts consumed by a war of an entirely different sort.

* * *

The door shuts with a sharp ‘snap’. Knowing who it is, he is in no hurry to look up. Oh, no, the wait is far too intoxicating. 

He cared little for his good-brothers, but, even Doran would say vipers were amusing. His own proves to be quite entertaining. How she reacts to him exponentially so. It is a lesson learned late, but learned all the same.

“Household accounts.”

He fights back the grin.

He waits before glancing at where Elia stands. There is a sneer firmly planted on her face. 

His throat jumps. 

Though he remains where he is, it takes everything in him not to rise and cross the room to get to her. Oh, but, he wants to.

His words fail him. So much for that vaunted eloquence, he thinks grimly. 

But, how could he be when faced with this sight?

It’s the same dress and jewels she wore when she brought herself his chambers the first morning after he returned from the Wall. 

Mind all-too-easily remembering feel of her hands on his skin and the taste of her lips, seeing her lean back on the door he wonders if she wears the same perfume.

At that traitorous thought, he took a breath to steady himself. This was likely the first of many ploys his wife would practice. It would not do to toss over the leverage he gained since the last encounter so quickly. For him to give her the reaction she desires would be unconscionable.

The other thought forcing him to remain firmly seated are hands. Her empty hands. 

For a moment he wonders what would be a bigger worry, a wife not clever enough or too clever. 

In the end, it does not matter. The wife he has is the wife he has and of the regrets he does have, this is not one of them.

“It seemed legitimate enough an excuse.”

Her eyebrows rises. “Not a very good one. You have not looked at ‘my books’ for years.”

A smile tugs at his lips even as he nods towards her hands. “I suppose that is why you decided not to bring them.”

She tilts her head, the look almost playful. He finds himself leering, “But, it was wise of you. Of your things I enjoy looking at, your books are not chief among them.”

Elia rolls her eyes. “Are you being deliberately being obtuse?”

Feeling more at ease, he leans back in his chair. “Are you telling me I should learn to become a better liar?”

A thrill of something runs through him when her eyes narrow. “Whent is looking at me oddly.”

He tries not to grin. Better ‘oddly’ than anything else, he thinks. Oswell had not been wrong about the eyes on his wife that night.

“Ah, so it’s back to ‘Whent’ and not ‘Oswell’?” Try as he might, and he barely tries, he fails to curb the bite to his words.

She glares. “You deliberately mistake my meaning.”

He fights to keep the smile off his face. “I can tell him to stop staring at you, but, that will only lead to more questions. We cannot have that, can we?”

She hisses, “Are you making light of the predicaments you put me in.”

 _The predicaments he puts her in?_ Such cheek! Energized, he rises and stalk his audacious prey.

He shakes his head, but, not in answer to what she thinks he means. 

This defiance simply will not do.

“Would you have liked me to say, then?” He braces his hand on one side while the other he presses against her neck. As he inches towards her, he unfolds his lips into a smile, “It was either that, dear wife, or tell Tywin Lannister about your deplorable behavior.”

He smirks at her raised chin. “If I am so deplorable, why put up with me?”

He trades his smirk for an expression of patently false confusion. It almost turns to a smile at the searching look he receives. To explain, he says, “You were there in the Sept when I said the words. I suppose it helps I have become quite accustomed to you. ”

“Rhaegar Targaryen!” When she shoves at his shoulder, he laughs.

Her face heats in the most delightful way, he thinks. But, it is not enough. No, it will not be.

“You seem to think yourself amusing, do you? Perhaps you ought to try your hand at being a Fool.”

He laughs harder. He presses himself closer to Elia. He smiles at how she does not try to pull away. “Now, wife, that’s not very kind.”

“It is not nice when one’s husband complains of his wife’s attentiveness.” She is being far too bold for someone with such a flush, he thinks. 

As he be bring her to move away from the door and settles her on the edge of his desk, he helpfully points out, “I was not complaining.”

“You are now.” 

He shakes his head even as he kisses her frown away.

He sighs. Given his past exploits he must be careful to be above reproach. Despite his own lack of personal shame, he shudders what would have happened if they had been discovered. “Tywin Lannister is hardly the man to toy with.” 

“If you dislike how I act you should have said something.” She shrugs. “He did not notice. Of course, it was not his notice I was after.” His eyes widen when Elia only leers at him. “Can you say it was not pleasurable for you?"

For someone who ran from him, she being is awfully intrepid now. No, this certainly will not do. Even when he should not, he finds himself leaning into her. He rests a hand on her hip. “And you thought that this was the best way to stir my notice.”

She runs her hand along the length of his arm. “I thought the direct approach would be best to achieve my aims. Obviously, it proved successful.” 

Words gently spoken and all they do is burn. She did not care who had been there, the Lion of Lannister or the High Septon. Years ago this would have never have happened and now…

His arm snakes around her waist. “To what end?” 

The wicked gleam in her eyes sparks brighter. Seeing it does little to help him smother the want that continues to stir.

“You have not been to my rooms in days.”

When she pouts so prettily it is difficult to stop himself from kissing her again. 

Vowing not to do that, he lifts her chin with a hand. “You refused me.”

Eyes bright and without an ounce of shame, she retorts, “Of course, I did.”

He huffs a laugh. “And now you complain?”

Her eyes lower but, she pushes herself closer to him. Her hands start to play with his collar. There is hardly a reason to be coy now, he thinks. He allows her wordless examination. But, then, she asks, “Why shouldn’t I?” 

He takes hold of both of her hands to still them. “And what had I done to warrant such a sentence?”

When she looks up at him again the spark of mischief in her eyes sends a rapturous shiver up his spine. “You asked when I started making shirts for other men.” 

He exhales sharply and he finds himself flushing for an entirely unpleasant reason. His arm tightens against her back pulling Elia closer to him. Between the Kingsguard’s continued ease with his wife and there being few exceptions to the lustful gazes now sent his wife’s way, he had not been able to temper his jealousy well. Or at all, it seems. “You married a very stubborn man.” Before she says what he knew she would, he adds, “You also have yet to answer the question.”

She throws her head back and laughs. The way her flesh is pressed against him, sweetens the sound. “Still focused on that are you?”

With the way she is now trailing her lips across his jaw it is difficult to force out his next words, but, he gets them out. “Your reluctance to discuss the matter allows me think there is enough reason to warrant my attention.”

Grinning, she settles closer to him. “I like it when your attention is directed towards me.”

Curious, he pulls away from her assault. Half in jest, he says, “Please do not tell me you convinced Oswell to help you make me jealous.”

Wide-eyed, she asks, “Would it work?”

This time, he pokes her shoulder. “Quiet, you!”

She snorts. “I am not that clever, you know.” 

His wife is quite the liar. “I think you can be plenty clever.”

As pleased as she seems by the simple compliment, the wickedness in her makes him anxious for reasons he cannot begin to fathom. “Then you must not be.”

This time, he snorts. “You may be right after all, I do not know when my wife started making other men’s shirts.”

Snickering, she collapses into his arms. It is a far from unpleasant thing as he grips around her waist tighter. 

Into his chest, she whispers, “Why do you insist on knowing?”

“Does not a husband have a right to know?” He flushes, embarrassed. Not a very good question to ask. “I did not mean-”

Predictably, Elia sighs heavily as if feeling put-upon. “I have been making Whent’s shirts for some years now.”

“Years?”

She gives him an artless look. “Who else was going to make shirts on Dragonstone for the Kingsguard you brought with you?”

Laughter explodes. Clearly it was the reaction she was trying for because she pulls herself closer to him and continues, “If it pleases you, I make yours first and more often.” 

He grins. “Good.”

Pointedly, she exclaims, “I grow tired of speaking of shirts.” 

He snorts. “Mine or theirs?”

She chuckles. “Anyone’s.” She ends with a kiss to his chest and burrows further into his side.

He finds himself grinning. “What would you like to talk about?”

Once more, she looks up at him with her dark eyes. “You demanded me I come to you. Obviously, you had questions for me. You received the answer you craved.” He did not respond to the barb. Then again, he knew she was going to continue. “Certainly, it is you who has something to say.”

Of course he has plenty to say. In this moment though, he would rather not. He tears himself away from her arms to cross the room.

She glances curiously. “What are you doing now?”

He glances over his shoulder. “I am bolting the door shut.”

She huffs. “Obviously.” From her perch on his desk, she leans forward. “Why?”

Task completed, he moves again to stand with his hands bracketing her body and his legs standing to frame hers. He revels in the way she shivers at his proximity. She asks again, “Why did you bolt the door.”

He stifles a laugh. “Perhaps you are right and are not that clever. I bolted the door so that no one can come in.”

Annoyance and suspicion are plain on her face. “Why do you want no one to come in?”

Trying for a serious tone, he croons, “You are here so that I might see your books.”

Her eyes widen and her skin flushes. “You know I did not bring any.”

A smirk tugs at his lips. He runs one hand across her collarbone while the other pushes aside the things on his desk for once not caring if some of them break. “Even better, because I do not want to talk of books. I do not wish to talk at all.”

A smile unfurls. “What do you want to do?”

He presses a kiss against her neck. “You desired my undivided attention. Now you have it.” He brushes his thumb against her lips. “To start, I want to see…”

She kisses his thumb. Then, she whispers, “What would you like to see?”

He presses himself closer to her. “I am fairly certain you can show me something far more worthwhile than any book.”

Pressing his lips against hers he gives her no time to question him further. But, then, her moans are answer enough.


End file.
